Harry Potter and the Dance of the Warrior
by LordDragon73
Summary: Harry Potter understands now what he was born to be. A weapon plain and simple. After another attack and threats made, guilt wells up inside him. He turns almost exclusively to training solo. His friends try to keep close, but Harry is pushing everyone aw
1. Letters from Privat Drive

Chapter One: Letters from Privet Drive  
  
"Oh, come on Hedwig, you know you're my lady," Harry said in a comforting tone. "There isn't an owl alive that can match you. I just need another owl for the summer holiday. I promise that I'll give it to a friend at the end of the summer."  
  
Harry was beginning to get exasperated. "I'm gonna have a lot of post this summer and what would I do if you were never here? I'd miss you terribly." This last remark seemed to get his lovely snowy owl's attention. Hedwig paused for a moment. She then gave him a loving look and a soft hoot of agreement.  
  
Harry smiled at her then said in soft tones "Just take this note and give it to anyone at headquarters. Then go to Diagon Alley to the owl shop. I wrote a note saying you would choose the owl, ok?"  
  
Harry received another soft hoot.  
  
"I know you won't find an owl as incredible as you are, but do the best you can." Hedwig leaned in to nip his ear affectionately, gave another soft hoot, and then proceeded out into the dawn sky.  
  
Dear Fred and George,  
  
How is the store coming along? I hope to get the chance to see it sometime. Unfortunately I doubt it will be any time soon. Look, I hate to ask this but I need a favor. I've ordered several things from Flourish and Botts, and from several other shops around Diagon Alley. One of the items is a sorcerer's trunk, which can't be sent by owl. I need someone to collect all the books and equipment I ordered, pack them into this trunk and arrange middle of the night delivery using the Knight bus. And the biggest favor of all is forgetting all about it afterwards. Let me know if you two are willing to help a mate out.  
  
Harry  
  
Well after midnight Harry Potter sat at his desk finishing his Transfiguration summer work. Looking out the window he saw a pair of owls crossing the moon heading right for him. Harry smiled and made room by the window for his old and new owls. Hedwig floated onto his shoulder while another stunning snowy owl landed on his desk. Harry knelt down with a broad smile to stroke his new owl.  
  
"Hello my new friend," he said softly. "I see my Hedwig found herself a beautiful male friend." He looked to his shoulder and saw Hedwig give him a bashful look. Harry couldn't help but chuckle, but he couldn't understand why he suddenly thought of Ginny.  
  
Dear Ron and Hermy,  
  
I'm writing this letter to the both of you because I need to tell you both the same things, and I don't think I can bear to write it all twice, so I'll just copy them. You may have noticed that the owl that delivered these letters is not Hedwig. She's fine; I just needed another owl for the summer. His name is Snuffles. A small tribute I suppose, guess Sirius has been on my mind. What with having to send a message to headquarters every 3 days, and having the owl stay with Hermione, in case she has a response, or needs to send something out, there is little time for the extensive use I'm putting Hedwig to. I'll explain what I mean after I get to the point of this letter.  
  
I really need to apologize to the two of you. I've been a total prat the entire year, and to top it off I nearly got us all killed. Forgive me if this isn't all written that well, I have a tough time expressing myself. So I reckon it's better in a letter than in person. I love you both very much, you two are the first friends I ever had, you are a brother and sister to me, and if I ever lost either one of you....well I don't think I could bear it. I know I wasn't a good friend this year, I know I was moody and snappish and a real moron most of the time. But you two didn't deserve it. My temper was out of control most of the time and you two usually got the receiving end of it. It was totally unfair. Ron, your family is the only one I've ever known, and I can't help thinking about how much danger I've put them in, just by being your friend; and not a very good one at that. I promise that I will try harder to be a better friend to you both, that I will try to control my temper and my hazardous instincts, and if I fail sometimes I hope you can forgive me and remember how much I care for you both. I've never told anyone this, but last year, when the dementors came after me-- well you know you need to think happy thoughts to make it work, and I was feeling so terrible. I couldn't do it, I was gonna die. The last thought I had was of you two; that was my happy thought. That's what saved my life. I just thought you should know. I hope that expresses how I feel about you two better than I could tell you.  
  
It's been a little over 2 weeks since I've last seen you, and I miss you both terribly. I haven't left the house since I got here. I've rarely left my room except to eat (on occasion) and use the bath. I haven't been sleeping much either—nightmares, you know. Don't worry, they aren't that kind, I've been practicing Occlumency every day since I've been home, and I can usually block him out completely. These are just regular nightmares, I dream of Sirius and that night every time I close my eyes, usually accompanied by Cedric and the end of the Triwizard Tournament. God I miss Sirius, still hurts so much...Well it's given me ample time to work and train, most of my summer school work is done already. (I'll give you a minute to catch your breath, Hermy!) I've also figured out a few ways around the ministry's sensors to detect underage wizardry. So I've started work on improving my dueling skills, among other things. Please keep that to yourselves though, and if you want to know how, I'll have to tell you in person, ok? Hedwig has been busy with my messages to headquarters, and with letters to various witches and wizards that have been known to fight against the dark. I've also been in touch with the Dark Arts Defense League, getting advice on books to read and so forth. So that's how I've been spending my summer so far and I reckon that's how it will continue till school starts again. I've already spent a small fortune on books and equipment. (Another thing Hedwig has been doing.)I don't think it's a good idea for me to leave here till school starts-- puts too many people in danger. It's obvious that I've given Voldemort even more reason to want me dead, and I don't want anyone else hurt because of me. Well, it's 3 am, and I have some more letters I need to write. I will speak to you both soon. Take care of yourselves.  
  
Love, Harry  
  
Dear Mad Eye,  
  
Just a note to check in with the Order. I had a question and wondered if you had the answer. That night at the ministry, that filth Dolohov used a strange curse twice. It was a sort of a slashing move with his wand; the spell looked like a purple flame. The first time he was silenced and still hurt Hermione really bad. The second time he used it on me, I managed to get a shield charm up in time, but I was still thrown. Do you happen to know what this curse is? Is it widely used by dark wizards, and is there a better way to defend against it?  
  
Thanks Harry  
  
Ron Weasley sat at the scrubbed wooden table in the kitchen of the Burrow reading his letter from Harry. He sat staring into space, slightly stunned over what Harry had written to him.  
  
"Is something wrong, Ronald dear?" asked the always cheerful Molly Weasley.  
  
"What...uh, no, nothing mum, just a letter from Harry. He says he isn't sleeping much and that he doesn't plan to leave the muggle house at all this summer."  
  
"Well I've seen his bedroom light on till all hours of the morning, but why doesn't he want to leave those horrible people?" Molly asked a bit concerned now.  
  
"What do you mean you've seen the light on, mum?"  
  
"The order is still keeping an eye on Harry, now more than ever, Ron"  
  
"Oh, I should have thought of that, I guess that's part of the reason Harry hasn't been going out; says he doesn't want anyone else hurt because of him."  
  
Hermione Granger sat in her parents' tidy muggle kitchen; silent tears fell down her cheeks, as she read Harry's letter. She had always loved Harry like a brother, but was afraid to tell him, boys were just so annoying when I came to feelings. She also hadn't realized that she meant so much to him. Hermione knew he was hurting very much, and was glad that he admitted it. She was awfully worried about him, and this business about getting around wizarding law, well now was not the time to carry on about it. This business about not leaving the house got her worried as well; she was certain it wasn't healthy. When she went to Ron's the two of them would have to convince him to stay at the Burrow. And she would tell him that she loved him too. And possibly hug the sweet prat to death.  
  
Dear Ginny,  
  
I sent an owl to Ron today, and I wanted to write to you as well, to tell you how sorry I am for getting you involved that night at the Ministry. My stupidity nearly got us all killed. I am very proud to say you are my friend; you showed bravery and toughness as great as any witch I've ever met. I'm glad that you decided you didn't fancy me anymore. That doesn't sound right, I'm sure, but you gave me the chance to know the real you. How smart and quick you are, tough and sure; with enough of George and Fred's influence to break the rules and know how to have fun. I learned what a wonderful person you are and I'm glad of it. A wonderful person wrapped of in a pretty redheaded body. (o; You're very easy to talk to and someone I trust.  
  
I should also apologize for not being a very nice person most of the year. I could blame it on the stresses of the past year, but I won't. You didn't deserve my attitude a lot of the time. You deserve to be with someone a lot better then me. Well I hope you accept my apologies, and I will try not to act like such a git in the future.  
  
My summer so far hasn't been anything special; I've just been studying hard. Don't sleep much, and have a lot to learn. Next time the bastards come for me, it won't just be me defending myself. I plan on serving up more than I get! (I hope to, anyway) I know I can trust you to keep a secret, so I'll tell you a few things I didn't tell Ron. (Not that I don't trust Ron, but I sent him and Hermione the same letter and she's not quite forgiving when it comes to bending rules) I had Fred and George help me get some- let's say, 'dodgy' magical equipment from a few shops in Diagon alley, so I can train and get around magical law. I also got quite a few books. Let's just say if Dumbledore or McGonagall found out I had some of these, they might consider locking me in a dungeon with Snape for a couple of weeks. Don't worry, it's mostly white magic, but I did get a few dark magic ones (for reference only!) I've done several rituals of knowledge, which help me learn a lot of things very quickly which would otherwise take years to learn. Unlike dark rituals which I've read about, (which are quite terrible, and I would never take part in them) the usual price for white rituals is pain, quite a lot of pain, but nothing I can't deal with. You kinda get used to pain. I told Ron I haven't been sleeping much because of nightmares, which is true, but I'm usually so bruised up from training it doesn't help. Please take care of yourself.  
  
Your Friend, Harry  
  
Ginny finished her letter. She vaguely heard the conversation Ron and their mum were having. She looked up, eyes slightly shining and her cheeks a bit flushed, and she asked in a quiet but slightly dangerous sounding voice, "Ron, where did Harry hear that I no longer fancied him?"  
  
Ron looked sharply and slightly fearfully at the tone of voice his younger sister used "Wha...What Ginny?"  
  
"You heard me, Ron, who told Harry I don't FANCY him any more?" she said a little louder now.  
  
Fortunately for Ron, Fred and George chose that moment to enter the kitchen for breakfast, and both their eyes lit at the last statement.  
  
'Yes,' they both thought. 'Perfect material to torture Ginny with.'  
  
"Oh Gin? So you do," said George.  
  
"Still fancy Harry, do you?" said Fred. The smiles broadened across there identical faces.  
  
The sharp looks aimed at them from both their mum and younger sister froze them in there tracks and wiped the smiles off there faces.  
  
"Uh, Gin, I think Hermione mentioned it to Harry, but I'm not sure..." Ron said before he hurried from the room.  
  
"Hrmm, I'll have to send my friend Hermione a little note," Ginny said quietly  
  
Dear Mr. Dervish,  
  
Thank you for your response to my query. I will indeed take the sorcerer's trunk with the five compartments, the one containing the largest chamber, along with the rest of the items I asked about in my previous letter. I will be arranging for payment immediately, and for shipment within the next day or two. Thank you for your help.  
  
Sincerely Harry J Potter  
  
Harry just sat there at his desk, staring at the letter he received from Ginny. 'Did I really say she was a wonderful person wrapped up in a pretty redhead's body?' Well, it's true, he thought. But he hadn't meant to say it. Come to think of it, he had been thinking a lot about Ginny. Her smile, her eyes, her hair.  
  
'What's the matter with me? I've never thought about her this much before.' Harry sat there, confused. 'Oh well, I'll just write her back.'  
  
Dear Ginny,  
  
Ok, Ok, so calling you a pretty redhead was an understatement. I should have said lovely and enchanting, but I didn't want you to start blushing and stop talking to me. I apologize for not getting it right the first time. I'm glad you relayed the message from Ron, I was starting to worry that he was too uncomfortable with what I said to write back. Well I suppose he is from what he wrote, but I'm willing to wait till he can figure out what to say. Training is going pretty well, can't really do much more tonight, hurting a bit too much. So I've been mostly reading tonight. I know you are worried about my health, but this is something that has to be done. I don't have time to grow up and learn slowly. They want to hurt me and they want to hurt the people I love, and I won't have it. Ginny, you're probably the only person I can say this to, but I'm afraid. Not for myself really, at this point. I feel sad and tired most of the time, you know? I'm afraid of loosing someone else I care about. Quidditch doesn't even seem to be that important anymore. The only thing that really makes me smile anymore is thinking about you, Ron and Hermy. Well enough of deep thoughts.  
  
I really should go get a haircut, I can't believe my hair is almost to my shoulders already. Never really noticed how fast my hair grows, and I think some of the magic I've been doing is making it grow even faster. Lucky I don't see my uncle that often. It's actually been a week since I've seen him. If he saw my hair I think he'd go through the roof. Well it's late. Gonna try to get some sleep. Wish me luck.  
  
Always, Harry  
  
Dear Mundungus,  
  
Glad to hear you found as many of the books on that list as you did. I know the rarity of some of them. The cost of the books and the finder's fee are acceptable and I'm sending the Galleons along with this letter. It's too bad that Mr. Thatcher wouldn't part with his book at any price; I believe he has the only existing copy. But if you can keep your eyes peeled for another copy I'm willing to double your finder's fee. Thanks, and I know I don't have to tell you to keep quiet about all this.  
  
Also if you could let the order know that I checked in.  
  
Harry  
  
Harry Potter, he of great fame and legend, lay in a puddle of sweat, shivering in pain on the cool stone floor of the chamber inside his sorcerer's trunk. Lying there, clutching his ribs, silent tears running down his thin pale face, Harry thought of the things that mattered most to him. The reasons for all his pain.  
  
Sirius had told him last year- he was a weapon, he needed to be ready. It was up to him to protect his friends, to defeat the Dark Lord. He had to fight. He imagined something happening to Ron, Hermy, Ginny, any of the Weasley's, if they face to face with Voldemort. Harry remembered Sirius, remembered that night every time he lay on the floor like this after his training. It kept him going through all the pain and hurts. Tonight was the worst it'd been after more than three weeks hard training and study. He had done the best he'd ever done but was hurt worse than ever before. Clutching his ribs, Harry began to try to sit up.  
  
What he hadn't told anyone, not even Ginny, was how he was training. He acquired, with a little help from Mundungus Fletcher, 6 battle training orbs, (officially called orbs of Onuris) which were used by aurors at the end of training. Each orb was used to conjure a sort of illusion, a construct of a dark wizard to duel against. But most illusions don't cast such powerful curses at you, the aurors never trained against more than two of them at a time. And they only used 2 at the end of their training, both set at moderate. Harry fought tonight using four of the orbs, one set for moderate and thee at novice. It was a grueling match, but he eventually won. The rituals he already went through slightly raised his skill level, and gave him more knowledge, and unlocked a little more of his potential. The only thing they couldn't do was give him the practical knowledge to do what was needed. In order to get his body to move like it should, to be as strong as it needed to be, and to use the new magic he now knew took loads of work and practice. Actually much of the 'new' magic he learned was ancient magic. Harry purchased several spell books about ancient aurors, Greek, Roman, Egyptian and British. They used powerful magic to fight the dark arts, magic mostly forgotten and too powerful for most wizards to use. Harry fought with power and speed; but he was still too inexperienced to have the finesse or style of someone like his headmaster, the most powerful wizard of the age.  
  
Still, Harry was getting better, stronger, faster-- if someone was in the room with him when he began his matches, they would be able to feel the magic radiating from him. Finally managing to get his feet, he flicked his wand, and a sturdy wooden chair appeared out of no where. Sitting down with a groan he said softly 'Going to have to take a few days off, I'll just have to stick to my books for a while; and there are two more letters I've been putting off.'  
  
Harry thought about the two letters, one to Neville and another to Neville's Gran. The one to Neville would be easier. He wanted to apologize to him, as he did with everyone else, including Luna. He also wanted to tell him how proud he was. Proud to have Neville as a friend. But Neville's Gran was different. He wanted to tell her who Neville really was, how brave and true to his friends the boy had been that night. How Neville was a true Gryffindor, truly his father's son. But she was a stern woman, and he would have to word it just so, to get her to understand. With that thought, Harry flicked his wand again, and a small sturdy table appeared before him. With his non-wand hand he summoned parchment and ink from the shelves across the room and began the letters.  
  
Dear Ginny,  
  
I can't believe Fleur and Bill are getting married. You said they are so happy together, so I think it's just wonderful. I can only imagine how nutters your mum is right now, don't let her get you down. And I know you'll just love your new sis in law. I found that I liked her as I got to know her during the tournament.  
  
How is Ron enjoying his summer job at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes? He wrote me a short note about it. It sounded like he was having fun. I'm taking a few days off from training, not really by choice, but my last session was a little rough. I know, I know, please don't worry about it. So I'm just mostly reading, actually I found this neat little ritual that I want to try. It's supposed to trace your family tree. It only works on magical families, so I won't see much on my mum's side, but I wonder what will be on my dad's side. I'm not allowed to ask questions about my family when I'm here, but I thought that if I wrote down the names I find out, maybe I could do some research when we were back at school. I know it must sound foolish and a waste of time, but I guess being alone all the time, I don't know, I just want to know where I came from. Well I will talk to you soon, lovely lady.  
  
Always, Harry  
  
Ginny was sitting at the kitchen table, as usual, while Molly started breakfast. Ginny had just finished her latest letter from Harry. She usually felt the same way after every letter from him. Worried, and unsure. She cared for Harry, very much, even if she told Hermione that she didn't anymore. It was a lie, and the letters from Harry seemed different now. She was almost frightened to hope, it sounded like he was thinking of her differently too. He called her lovely lady; her heart did a total flip flop when she read that. But she couldn't help but worry too. He said he was hurt so often, and Harry usually didn't admit hurts that easily. It meant he was more than a little hurt as he continued his training. Ginny couldn't say anything to anyone though. Harry trusted her. So she had to keep this to herself, for now, anyway.  
  
Ron came in as she was reaching for the teapot. His eyes looked in the direction of the parchment in front of her.  
  
A small smile came across his lips "Another letter from Harry, Gin?"  
  
"What...oh yes." Her face flushing slightly as she thought 'lovely lady' yet again.  
  
Ron noticed of course and his smile broadened. "Ginny, why is it you're always blushing whenever you finish one of his letters?" He said in an overly sweet voice.  
  
Ron noticed his mum hiding her smile, and noticed Ginny flushing more, but not saying anything. "Should I send my best mate a letter demanding to know the things he writes to my little sister?" he said in a falsely indignant voice.  
  
Ginny was now blushing fiercely and stuttering slightly "D...Don't you dare Ron, I'm just worried about him being alone all the time."  
  
"Uh huh." His smile was broad across his face now.  
  
"Ronald, leave your sister alone this instant, and come get your food." Mrs. Weasley said. Her voice was stern, but her broad smile and the twinkle in her eye gave away her true thoughts on the subject.  
  
Ginny waited till it was just she alone with her mum, and she tentatively asked "Are Bill and Fleur going to ask Harry to the wedding?"  
  
Molly Weasley tried to keep her smile as small as possible and answered "I'm not sure Ginny dear, why do you ask?"  
  
"Well...I was thinking of asking Harry to be my escort," Ginny said in a small voice, her cheeks rosy red.  
  
Dear Hermy,  
  
Just wanted to check in and see how you were. I've been working hard, though my summer work is long finished (ha ha). Just doing some background training. Also been trying to work out a way we can all communicate when we're not together. Like wizarding telephones or something. There are several ways to do it, some slightly dodgey when it comes to wizarding law. Some are much too expensive or complicated for me to do right now. But I'm working on it; I'll let you know how it goes. Just a warning, that might mean your lots Christmas presents. (o; Well I hope to hear from you too. I'll have Snuffles wait in case you want to send something back or to someone else.  
  
Love Harry  
  
Dear Ron,  
  
Thanks for your letter, and I'm glad you understand how I feel. I thank you for forgiving me, but it was a big deal, and I am truly sorry. So how goes work at WWW? Stocking up for school? Any new dangerous inventions for us to try out? What else have you been doing this summer? Gone to see any Quidditch yet? I see from the Prophet that the Cannons are having a pretty good season. Have you seen any matches? I don't think it's a good idea for me to come by the Burrow, even when Hermy gets there. As much as I want to, it's just not safe. Talk to you soon,  
  
Your Mate, Harry  
  
Harry sat at the small wooden table in his trunk chamber, leafing though a pile of books, searching for a spell he wanted to learn. The chamber around him wasn't empty as promised when it was delivered. But Harry didn't mind, there was a small round table, with four wooden chairs, a small camp bed, a small wardrobe, and three bookshelves along one wall. He found an old wizards wireless tucked in the bottom corner of the wardrobe, so he was able to listen every day and keep up with the news.  
  
'Should have bought one myself after the first year' he thought to himself.  
  
Harry was wearing a nice set of wizards robes, plain dark brown, but of very good material. His training robes, which he always wore in this chamber. It took a bit of transfiguration to get the fit right, but he needed the practice and it was a comfort to feel like a wizard all the time. There also was a simply stunning set of dress robes, deep black that seemed to shimmer sliver and green as he moved. They took a lot longer to magically alter, and he wasn't sure when he would need such fine robes, but his skills were improving. Harry picked up his wand, and a small tea set appeared, slightly chipped, but it was his. He still couldn't make already prepared tea appear as Dumbledore could, but he could do it in three steps, with three small spells. As he sipped his tea, listening to the latest tune by the Weird Sisters, he looked around the room.  
  
Several oil lamps hung from the high ceiling, and Harry had several candles lit in a saucer to give a little extra light for reading. The trunk also had a load of parchment and ink, several dozen empty potion bottles, and various other potions making equipment. Harry was trying to figure out how to make a wizarding window, like they had at the ministry. With that it would be the perfect workroom. But he was more than comfortable the way it was now.  
  
Just then he heard something on the wireless. He reached out his empty hand, waggling his fingers, and the volume came up a touch. Damn. Another attack, another dark mark. This was the forth he had heard about since he returned to Privet drive. A husband and wife killed, no other details, no names. Harry sipped his tea. What had they done to deserve to die? Or was it because they refused to join Voldemort? How many people had he convinced to join the death eaters? How many did he have under the 'imperious'? Harry gulped down his tea and began going through his books with renewed conviction.  
  
Dear Remus,  
  
See, I can call you just by your first name, although it'll take some getting used to! Here's my usual note to check in. I heard about that last attack. Voldemort seems to be gaining momentum. I know you won't speak of Order business, so I won't ask. My studies are going well, thanks for the information on those spells you gave me in your last letter; I think I'm beginning to understand the theory better. I still say you're the best teacher we ever had (but please don't tell McGonagall, she is my head of house and I should say she is).  
  
I'll speak to you soon,  
  
Harry  
  
Harry woke up feeling great. It was just after dawn, and for the first time this summer he had slept an entire night. It was three days since that last dueling session, and the potions and salves he brewed up really did the trick. He was still a little stiff, but other than that he felt great. Another first for the summer. He was starved, but it was still too early to go down and get breakfast. He would wait for the Dursleys to stir.  
  
Gathering clothes, Harry figured a long hot shower would loosen the last of the stiff muscles. After what seemed to be an hour, the hot water ran out, and Harry took some time to dress properly which he had almost gotten out of the habit of doing. He took the time to thoroughly brush his long dark hair. He brought with him a piece of rawhide (one of many he had to strap packages to Hedwig and Snuffles' legs, when needed) and tied it into a loose ponytail. The hair in the front wasn't really long enough to tie back, but hung around in front of his face. To Harry's pleased surprise, it looked really....cool. Being able to use magic over the summer also did something for his wardrobe. He was able to transfigure all of Dudley's old clothes to fit him properly. Harry also changed the colors and patterns of all his shirts and sweaters, from loud harsh colors, to black and dark blue, the same with the jeans and trousers he had. That is how he dressed today; black jeans and a black short sleeved tee shirt. As he was done dressing, he checked what he looked like in the mirror, and got a pleasant surprise. Although still too thin, and a bit too pale, he was looking well toned, and slightly muscular. He couldn't help but grin at his reflection. Harry was in a thoroughly good mood, for the first time in months. How quickly a mood and a day can change! 


	2. Letter from an Enemy

Chapter 2: Letter from an Enemy  
  
Since Harry was feeling exceptionally good, and was sporting his 'new' look, he decided to wait a bit before going down to breakfast. He was starving, but really didn't want to run into his uncle Vernon. They were all having a quiet holiday this summer, due mainly to the fact of Harry rarely leaving his bedroom, and he really didn't want to change that with a big row. After he heard his uncle's car leave he ran down the stairs. Thankfully the kitchen was empty, he cooked himself a big meal and sat in happy silence reading today's Prophet.  
  
"Cannons win again," he said with a smile, thinking to send a note to Ron later on.  
  
After cleaning up, Harry went back to his room, plopped down on his bed, and finished his paper. He spent a leisurely day, reading for pleasure rather than for study; he reread 'Flying with the Cannons' for what had to be the thirtieth time. He raided the refrigerator periodically throughout, feeling pleasantly full and content.  
  
At a little after five he heard his uncle's car return from work. A short time later he began to smell dinner being cooked. His stomach rumbling, Harry gave a grim smile and made ready to face the Dursley's.  
  
'Well, maybe it won't be so bad. I really haven't seen them lately,' he thought hopefully.  
  
He found after just two steps into the kitchen his was dead wrong. After the first step into the kitchen, his uncle looked up from the table, by Harry's second step Vernon was beginning to purple.  
  
"HARRY POTTER!!!" his uncle roared.  
  
Harry straightened up, looked his uncle in the eye. "Yes uncle Vernon?" he said in an even voice.  
  
"I will not have you living here looking like some hoodlum! Look at the state of your hair. When did it get so long? I demand that you cut it now!"  
  
"And those clothes, all black, like some freak, some common thug," his Aunt Petunia put in.  
  
Vernon nodded and continued "I'll not have the neighbors see you looking like this. I'll not have you besmirching our good name with your freakish ways." Uncle Vernon's rant was getting louder as he went along, his face even more purple, and the vein in his forehead was beginning to throb.  
  
Harry wanted to laugh at the 'good name', but decided to cut him off rather than listen to this tirade. He said in a cold voice, "In case you haven't noticed, I haven't left this house all bloody summer. So you don't have to worry about me ruining the family name," he said, the sarcasm practically dripping off his voice.  
  
"How dare you speak to me..." Vernon began in a growl.  
  
But Harry cut him off again. "I'll speak to you as you speak to me; if you expect some respect, you'll have to have to give me some," he snarled "If you think you can intimidate me any more, you're out of your mind!"  
  
"I've faced the most evil of men, and let me tell you something, next to him, you are next to less than nothing." Harry's voice was getting louder, he was getting angrier, and his power began to come up to the surface. "I wouldn't bow to that filth, and I certainly won't cower to you,"  
  
His uncle was totally enraged now. He shot up and began striding towards Harry, raising his hand as if to strike him. He stopped cold when he saw Harry's blazing green eyes, and he felt the power radiating off of him. Vernon Dursley's knees began to tremble, and for the first time he truly feared his nephew. He quickly retreated back across the room, to his chair at the table, and hid behind his paper. His wife Petunia was cowering next to the stove, till whatever she was cooking started to smoke. Harry proceeded to the table and sat down.  
  
They sat there in silence, until he asked, "Where is Dudley?" Even the slimmed down version of his cousin rarely missed a meal.  
  
As usual Harry received no answer to his question, but couldn't understand the furtive look his uncle gave him over his paper. His aunt began to serve dinner, just as a jet black owl flew in through an open window. Petunia shrieked as it landed on the table in front of Harry, a letter attached to its leg. With a feeling of foreboding, he untied the letter, his face paling as he read.  
  
Dear Baby Potter,  
  
We have your cousin, you have one hour to meet us by the statue in the center of the park. If you are not there we will begin to give him a taste of pain you deserve. I will make sure it lasts a very long time before we return him to your family in very little pieces.  
  
Bellatrix  
  
Harry shakily passed the parchment to his uncle, who also paled; he in turn passed it to his aunt, who whimpered and began to weep.  
  
Harry knew what he had to do. He stood up and said "I'm going upstairs to get ready." He left the room. On his return to his bedroom he went over to his desk, pulled out parchment and quill, and scribbled two identical notes:  
  
Death eaters have taken my cousin. I have to meet them by the statue in the center of the park near Privet drive. Send help as soon as possible.  
  
Harry  
  
He took the notes over to his pair of owls. In a shaky voice he said, "This is very important; I need you to take these letters to Professor Dumbledore and to Headquarters. Please fly as fast as you can, my life depends on it," he said in a quiet voice. Both the beautiful snowy owls looked up at him, their amber eyes wide, as they gave him reassuring hoots.  
  
Harry watched as they flew out the window, and then went to his trunk, pulling out his school robes. In the time it took him to dress he decided his plan of action. Grabbing his wand and tucking it into his belt, he left the room.  
  
After coming down the stairs, he paused before going back into the kitchen. He had fifteen minutes before he had to leave for the park. Harry walked over to the telephone in the corridor, picked up the receiver and punched in the numbers he was given long ago, but had never used. If he hadn't been so anxious, he might have realized it was so strange for him to remember them so easily.  
  
After two rings, a bright recognizable voice said through the receiver "Hello, Granger residence."  
  
"Hermy..." but he was cut off before he could continue.  
  
"Harry, oh how wonderful it is to hear from you! But will you please stop calling me Hermy!" Now it was Hermione's turn to be cut off.  
  
"Listen, I don't have much time," Harry said a bit louder.  
  
"What's wrong? What's happened?" Her voice was a bit on edge now.  
  
"I just received an owl...From Bellatrix...They've taken Dudley,"  
  
Hermione gasped.  
  
Harry continued "I'm to meet them shortly, not far from here, to trade myself for him,"  
  
"Harry, you mustn't!" Horror was in her voice now.  
  
"Hermione, I have to, I...I can't let anyone else be hurt because of me. This isn't about playing the hero, Hermy, after Sirius, I just couldn't," Harry's voice just about broke then. He paused for a moment and said, "I've sent Hedwig and Snuffles out with letters already, one to the Order and one to Dumbledore, but I don't think they'll receive them in time to help me. On my way to the meeting I'll stop at Mrs. Figg's house and see if there is anyone to help. Hermy, I just need to tell you a few things, and ask that you deliver some messages for me," The last sentence was pleading.  
  
She answered in a tearful voice, "Of course, Harry,"  
  
"Well, I just wanted to tell you I meant everything I said in that first letter, and I wanted you to tell Ron the same. You two mean so much to me,"  
  
"Will you give my love to Mrs. Weasley; to all the Weasley's? Thank them for being my family,"  
  
He heard soft crying on the other end of the phone; Harry's voice was trembling now too.  
  
"Please...please tell Ginny...I care for her so very much," This came out a bare whisper. "And tell Dumbledore I'm sorry, but that I had to do this. Watch out for Hagrid and Remus for me too. Ok, Hermy?" Several tears leaked down his cheeks.  
  
"I will, Harry...please, please take care of yourself,"  
  
"I love you, Hermione, you be careful,"  
  
"I love you, Harry,"  
  
Harry heard her crying harder as he hung the receiver up and continued back into the kitchen. His Uncle Vernon was standing over his wife, hands on her shoulders in a protective manner, while his aunt was weeping uncontrollably.  
  
Harry cleared his throat, and said in a quiet but clear voice, "I am leaving now, I don't expect I'll be able to return, but I will do all I can to get Dudley back,"  
  
His aunt looked up at this and launched herself at Harry, throwing her arms around him, crying into his shoulder. Harry was shocked at this; he patted her on the back softly, but didn't have the words. He left the kitchen a minute later.  
  
Harry approached the war monument in the middle of the park as he was told in the letter. He decided to leave his invisibility cloak at home. No trickery this time. He had to get Dudley out of there first. He had stopped at Mrs. Figg's house on the way there, his last desperate attempt to get reinforcements. Actually, he only wanted his headmaster, not someone from the order who could be hurt. No one answered his incessant knocking.  
  
Checking his watch, he saw he was five minutes early. Harry moved slowly, deliberately, carefully surveying the area. He checked for escape routes, and possible hiding places for Death Eaters. As he neared the monument he saw three dark robed figures and one stocky blond headed boy standing across the square near some trees. Dudley was ok. The funny thing was, he didn't seem to be in any distress. He was casually leaning against a tree, a smirk on his face as he watched Harry step forward. Harry continued his measured approach, eyes still darting around looking for more enemies.  
  
"You see, Dudley, my dear boy; I told you that the baby Potter would continue to play the hero, even for you," Harry heard the high pitched cackle of a voice from the hooded figure standing nearest to Dudley.  
  
Dudley chuckled.  
  
"You may go now, boy. Tell your father he will get his bag of gold soon enough," she said, harshly.  
  
"Ah....but can't I stay and watch?" Dudley replied in his whiny, needling voice.  
  
Harry stopped 20 feet away from them and answered them. "Go along Dud, I'll deal with you and your dad when I'm done with this filth," Harry said in a hard voice.  
  
"Deal with us?" she fell into her baby voice, "When you fell right into our hands yet again, itty bitty baby Potter?"  
  
Harry immediately knew how he was going to handle this situation; he smiled broadly at Bellatrix and her fellow Death Eaters, his power showing like a heated haze around him. He replied in a jovial voice, "Ah Bella, you think me that foolish? This was the easiest way for me to kill you,"  
  
The dark wizards stopped and gaped at him, not believing his response. Just then there was a small popping sound to Harry's right and Mundungus appeared 3 feet away.  
  
"What've we got 'ere 'Arry?"  
  
"No Dung, get out of here!" Harry shouted too late.  
  
Bellatrix sent a curse streaming towards Dung, and he went down hard. Harry wasted no time; he drew his wand as he spun in front of Dung. He quickly conjured up his strongest shield. As he did, three curses struck it, and Harry was forced back a step, but the spell held. Mundungus was groaning and trying to get his feet again.  
  
"Just stay down behind me," Harry roared.  
  
He jabbed his wand at the wizard farthest from Bella, standing close to a tree. Harry muttered an anti-apparition jinx.  
  
The death eater obviously didn't know the spell and laughed as he said "This boy has no power, he is nothing special,"  
  
But Harry had already sent a small ball of bright red fire from his open hand sailing at Bellatrix. Then he sent up another shield, as the two wizards sent more curses his way.  
  
Harry was pleased when he heard Bella's shriek; out of the corner of his eye he saw his ball of fire encompassing her shield charm, continuing around it, and hit her. After hitting the shield, most of its strength was gone, but Harry was pleased to see her robes begin to smolder. The Death Eater next to her shot water from his wand to put her robes out, and Harry used that time to flick his wand at the tree next to the left-most wizard. It stirred and one of the lower branches suddenly swatted down at the wizard, knocking him out. With another flick of his wand, the branch snatched up the unconscious form, and wrapped him up tight, dangling him ten feet above the ground.  
  
'One down,' Harry thought to himself, as the witch and wizard redirected their attacks at him.  
  
Blood was pounding in his ears, and he lashed out with every spell he could think of, but curses and jinxes began flying at him so fast it seemed all he could do was defend. Making matters more difficult was the fact that he couldn't dodge anything; he was forced to stay in one place defending Mundungus.  
  
Portions of the spells were starting to get through; he was getting beat up badly. Harry was now bleeding in a dozen places; the hair on one side of his head was clotted with blood, and it stuck to his face. The last spell from the unknown death eater hit his right side like a sledge hammer.  
  
"RRhhh..." Harry roared. It felt as though his ribs were broken.  
  
'I have to do something,' he thought frantically.  
  
"So, Bella," he called over to her. "Did that half blood master of yours punish you badly for letting me ruin his plans at the ministry?" He now used his own baby voice, "Did he hurt you very much, all because of me?" he used a sing-song voice, to incense her.  
  
Harry knew that she was half mad from her stay at Azkaban, and he hoped to force her to make a mistake. He knew he couldn't stand much more punishment. It was hard to breathe now; every breath sent knives of pain racing through his body.  
  
"Poor itty bitty Bella, did the big bad Voldemort make you cry?"  
  
It worked. Bellatrix shrieked incoherently and started cursing wildly, missing Harry by a wide margin. Finally she sent a curse that hit her fellows, who deflected it, making both spells, fly wide.  
  
Harry took this chance, and sent 4 spears of black fire from his wand at Bella, and a hammer of air at the other, with his wand and his hand. The second wizard didn't have a chance to defend and went flying backwards through the air, landing hard. Bellatrix managed to block three of the spears, but the fourth sliced through the side of her robes and dealt her a glancing blow.  
  
She shrieked again and began to come forward towards Harry, shaking with fury, just as there were a dozen popping sounds all around them. She looked around wildly and quickly disapparated. Another popping sound came from behind where she stood, as the other death eater followed her.  
  
Harry looked around, and saw nearly a dozen wizards. Among them he recognized Kingsley Shacklebolt, Nymphadora Tonks, and Mad Eye Moody, all three with their wands out, surveying the scene. Moody's electric blue eye raced all around, checking the perimeter. When Kingsley caught his eye, he winked as if to tell him to remember their involvement with the Order was still secret.  
  
Harry went slowly to his knees then, clutching his ribs, panting and trying to get his breath. After a couple of minutes, he crawled over to Dung, to see if he was alright. Mundungus was breathing hard; barely conscious. He was badly hurt, but Harry was sure he would live.  
  
After a moment, he heard footsteps approaching him, and heard the Minister of Magic's voice. "Harry, are you alright? What has happened?" Cornelius Fudge's voice had taken on the concerned fatherly tone he used before Harry first told him of Voldemorts return.  
  
Harry stood up suddenly, ignoring the screaming pains in his side, as his anger washed over him. He glared at the Minister. "What are you doing here, Fudge?" he said with contempt.  
  
"Here to arrest me for underage magic? Or for making up stories?" His voice gained strength, "Did I imagine these Death Eaters? Hasn't Voldemort replaced Malfoy with someone else to bribe you with?" His voice was a loud, harsh growl now. Fudge began to cower before Harry.  
  
An Auror stepped in front of the Minister. And then Harry heard a voice call to him, a voice he recognized,  
  
"You're saying some interesting things there, Harry; care to give me a full interview on what's been going on?" It was Rita Skeeter.  
  
He responded in a level voice as he looked over his shoulder, "After we finish here, we'll talk, ok Rita?" And she beamed at him, nodding.  
  
His eyes snapped back to Fudge, who cowered even more at the look in Harry's eyes and the power that was still radiating from him. His mouth was open in horror at the things he knew Harry could tell Rita. Harry's eyes snapped to the Auror who had taken up position in front of Fudge.  
  
"Dawlish," he growled.  
  
"Tell me Minister, does it always take four of your Aurors to stun one unarmed witch? If that's the case, we are in more trouble than I thought," he spat.  
  
"Tell me Dawlish, does it make you feel proud that you put my head of house in St. Mungo's? Proud that four of you seriously hurt an unarmed witch with no warning?" He roared. After a moment he locked his eyes on the Aurors.  
  
"How about you try that with me, Dawlish?" Harry's voice was a deadly hiss. "Or is it not to your advantage, it not being dark, and you not outnumbering me four to one?" He antagonized the auror now.  
  
"Now see here, Potter," squeaked Fudge, but he stumbled back as Harry glared at him.  
  
Dawlish was beginning to redden and shake with rage.  
  
"But Hagrid showed you, didn't he, Dawlish; and Professor Dumbledore too, didn't they, Dawlish?" Harry's voice was scathing now.  
  
"I very much enjoyed seeing you out cold on the ground." Dawlish began to sputter and took a step towards Harry, who smiled and said "Come on then, I'll embarrass you in front of all your friends, I'll show you how the Gryffindor's take care of our own."  
  
Dawlish held himself in check, barely. Harry was breathing hard, his pains forgotten for now; he wanted a piece of this Auror. As he was about to continue his verbal assault another voice piped up from behind the pair in front of him.  
  
"Harry..." the voice began.  
  
Harry's eyes snapped at the voice; it was Percy Weasley.  
  
Percy blanched at the look of hatred he received.  
  
"You dare speak to me, Percy?" Harry roared again, "Aren't you afraid I'll become, how did you put it...UNSTABLE and VIOLENT?"  
  
Percy paled, but said nothing.  
  
"You didn't honestly think Ron wouldn't show me the letter, did you?"  
  
"How do you feel about that, Percy, your own brother had more loyalty to me than you? Let me tell you something, Perc, You don't deserve to be a Weasley. Your family is the most supportive, protective, loving and caring family I've ever met. I love your mum and dad like my own!" " You don't have the loyalty, brains or heart to be a Weasley. I wish I had the heart to tell your mum she shouldn't waste her tears on a complete moron like you. Trouble comes, and your brother Bill leaves his life in Egypt to be close to his family, that's a Weasley!"  
  
"Your dad works hard all day but he still has the time to be a great father, that's a Weasley! Your mum has a husband and seven children, but still worries and looks out for an orphan boy, making him feel loved for the first time in his life, that's a Weasley!"  
  
"Tell me, what the hell are you?" His growl grew louder and harsher the longer he spoke.  
  
After a breath he continued "Tell me Perc, you said in that letter you would graciously accept your parents' apology when they realized you were right. So tell me, now that it has been confirmed, now that Voldemort," he looked at the three in front of him in disgust as they all flinched, "is back, were you gracious enough to apologize to them?" Harry demanded.  
  
When Percy said nothing, he continued "I thought as much; you aren't any kind of Weasley, you don't know the first thing about loyalty, you belong with these...these..." Harry was so infuriated he couldn't find a word strong enough.  
  
Before it went any farther, a clunking sound approached them, and Mad Eye Moody put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Harry tried not to flinch from the pain.  
  
Moody said in a soft growl, "That's enough, Harry; I think they get the idea. Come away from there and rest a bit, catch your breath."  
  
"And you, Dawlish, you calm yourself down too, else me and Harry will show just how much we Gryffindor's stick together." Now his voice back to its usual dangerous growl.  
  
Dawlish looked startled by Mad Eye's support for Harry and calmed almost immediately.  
  
Harry turned and hobbled a few paces off and tried to get control of himself. He heard Mad Eye tell the minister "I'll find out what happened with Potter, obviously you three rub the boy the wrong way," Suppressed laughter could be heard in his voice.  
  
A second later he heard a Moody's voice at his shoulder, "You alright, Harry? You need to go to St. Mungo's now? Or can you tell me what happened first?" His voice now showed real concern.  
  
Harry wordless took Bellatrix Lestrange's parchment letter from the pocket of his robes and handed it to Moody.  
  
"Hmm...Where is your cousin now?"  
  
"They let him go when I got here. He should be at home by now," He would deal with the Dursley's himself.  
  
"How many were there?"  
  
"Three, led by my old friend Bella," Harry replied.  
  
Mad-Eye raised his normal eye from the parchment at that, "You fought off three?" he said, surprised.  
  
Harry shrugged.  
  
Mad Eye turned to give the minister the letter, and then Harry remembered, and began to walk towards the tree where the last death eater was still held.  
  
Moody's magical eye must have been on him; before Harry took more than a couple of steps he asked:  
  
"Where are you going, Harry?"  
  
"To collect the last death eater before he figures out how to escape," Harry said. For the first time, his pain and exhaustion was heard by the witches and wizards around him.  
  
Immediately, Tonks and Shacklebolt were at his side, and he heard Fudge sputtering that Harry should have said he had a prisoner as soon as they got there.  
  
Harry ignored him, and continued toward the tree. He was flanked by these two Aurors that he secretly knew pretty well, with the others still a distance away.  
  
Tonks whispered, "You ok, Harry?  
  
Harry nodded weakly. "I'll live," he replied quietly.  
  
The footsteps were getting louder behind them and Kingsley said in a louder voice "So where is this Death Eater, Potter?"  
  
Harry took his wand out from up his sleeve, and flicked it at the tree. The branch holding the dark wizard slammed him down to the ground and released him.  
  
He heard Kingsley whisper, "Very nice, Harry."  
  
Harry also heard mutters of approval from the ministry people around him, and Moody's harsh laugh showed he approved also. "Fought off three and captures one, Ha! How many of your current Aurors you think are up to that, eh, Minister?"  
  
"I..I don't know Alastor,"  
  
There was a moment of silence before Harry said, "I hit him with a disapparation jinx, so he won't be going anywhere. The other two blocked the jinxes when I tried to hit them."  
  
The pair flanking him took control of the prisoner and prepared to take him back to the ministry, and eventually Azkaban, Harry supposed. He was really hurting now. He turned and looked about, Rita was still there hanging back, her quick quotes quill flying across the parchment.  
  
"Is there anything else you need of me, Minister?" Harry's voice was quiet now; he wasn't glaring at the minister, just looking at him now.  
  
Fudge stuttered slightly again and said "N...No, Harry, not just now, but you will be needed at this filth's hearing at the ministry in three days," he finished nervously.  
  
"I won't be at my family's house; I'm going into hiding until school starts. Please send me an owl, to let me know when the hearing will be," He gave the Minister a small bow of his head and began to walk toward Rita.  
  
Mad Eye caught up to him, before he was half way there. "Harry, I'll arrange for an escort as soon as I can, just sit tight at your family's place and we'll meet you there," He said this quietly so no one from the ministry could hear him.  
  
Harry shook his head, "No, Mad Eye, I don't want any escort, I don't want anyone else hurt because of me." The pain was evident in his voice as he looked over to where Mundungus still lay, with two medi- wizards hovering over him.  
  
Moody, following Harry's gaze said in his soft growl, "He'll be fine in a couple of days, and you can't go off on your own,"  
  
Harry looking up at the darkening sky said "No moon tonight, Mad Eye, and there isn't a wizard alive that can catch me on my Firebolt," He paused and signed. "I won't take the chance of someone else getting hurt. I think I proved I can hold my own... Take care of yourself, Mad Eye."  
  
And he left Moody standing there trying to figure out a way to convince Harry. It was difficult, because he understood how Harry felt, no matter how little he liked it.  
  
When he got to where Rita was standing, he extended his arm.  
  
"Will you walk me home, Rita? I'll answer your questions on the way." She nodded and they started across the large park.  
  
"You sure you're alright, Harry?" Harry was surprised to hear real concern in her voice.  
  
He smiled weakly at her and tried to brush the blood caked hair from his face, but that started the cut on his head seeping again, so he just left it alone.  
  
"Yes, thank you Rita. I'll be fine,"  
  
After two dozen or so steps, they reached a secluded park bench and he said, "Rita, would you mind if we sat here and talked? I really need to stop and rest."  
  
She nodded and they sat.  
  
Before she could start her questions he began. "Rita, I will answer as many questions as best I can but I need two things from you,"  
  
Rita Skeeter looked at him shrewdly and said slightly suspiciously, "Yes?"  
  
"Well, the first thing is I'd like is for you to keep the wizard that was injured name out of the paper." At her quizzical look he continued "A group of my parents' old friends have been keeping an eye on me over the summer, and I don't want them tracked down for trying to help me." The real reason was to hide Dung's involvement with the order. Harry hoped it worked.  
  
She agreed on this, "And the second?"  
  
"I need you to make it seem that you learned, and did not hear from me, that I was going into hiding by myself,"  
  
"You're really not going into hiding alone are you?"  
  
"I am, and if the death eaters read that you found out, they are more likely to leave my wizarding friends alone,"  
  
"Ok Harry, I can do that without a problem. Are you ready to answer some questions?"  
  
She began after his nod. "Well, first I just have to ask, why are you wearing your school robes here in the muggle world?"  
  
Harry chose his words carefully "Do you know how my father died, Rita?" he asked quietly.  
  
"He was killed by the Dark Lord, wasn't he?" she replied softly.  
  
"Yes, well more specifically, he tried to take on Voldemort," he ignored Rita's flinch, "by himself. He lived and died a wizard fighting against the dark forces to protect his wife and son." Harry paused then said, "If I was going to die today, I was going to die like him, a wizard fighting to the death against the dark,"  
  
He looked over at Rita and was astonished to see her eyes shining.  
  
Harry spent nearly three quarters of an hour answering questions, and he left Rita at that bench as he made his way home to deal with the Dursley's.  
  
He limped back to Privet drive. He had never felt so tired, and his whole body was in agony. All he wanted to do was lie down, even if it was in someone's front yard.  
  
'No time for that,' he thought, but as the Dursley's house came into view; his anger and rage came to the surface once more, and it was an almost welcome relief.  
  
As he approached the front door, it burst inwards and shattered against the wall. Harry heard his Aunt Petunia's shriek of surprise, and his uncle and cousin's curses.  
  
He entered, turning into the living room where the three were. He drew his wand as he crossed the threshold and sent Vernon and Dudley slamming into the wall across the room.  
  
"What are you doing?" Petunia shrieked "You nearly get my sweet Dudley killed and you come back here and attack him!" she was yelling now.  
  
Harry turned his cold glare on her and she quieted immediately. He raised his wand and pointed it at his uncle's face; he growled, "Tell her,"  
  
When Vernon Dursley said nothing, his eyes glued to the floor, Harry began to raise is wand, and his uncle began to slide up the wall.  
  
He gasped and began to sputter. Harry turned on Dudley. "No? Well how about you Dud? Tell your mum the whole true story, why don't you?"  
  
Dudley said nothing; he was pale and trembling, his eyes never looking up from the floor.  
  
After a moment of quiet, his aunt Petunia said in a quaking voice "What's going on?"  
  
"Your wonderful, brilliant, sweet son was never in any danger," Harry spat. "Your son and husband decided to trade my life for a bag of gold," His voice was like ice.  
  
"Oh, by the way, Vernon, I wouldn't be expecting to see any of it."  
  
There was a stunned silence. "B...bu...but you wouldn't do that, Vernon...Diddy?" Petunia's voice betrayed the horror she felt.  
  
The pair said nothing, their eyes locked on the floor.  
  
"You lot are all made for each other," he spat.  
  
Harry was about to leave the room but stopped and said "Oh, by the way, I led that evil bitch on- told her you warned me, Vernon, so if I were you I'd run screaming if you catch sight of her,"  
  
He had never said any such thing, but it was gratifying to see the looks of horror from his uncle and cousin.  
  
"I'll be leaving here in an hour. Hope I never see you again, either one of you; if I do, I will kill you," he said with a last growl as he left the room, leaving silence in his wake.  
  
Harry stumbled and limped up the stairs, finally gaining his bedroom. He gave himself a moment to react to the events of the day, as he sat on the edge of his bed. He felt the silent tears fall down his face, and he trembled with all the hurts, the emotions of the day catching up to him. He only gave himself only a moment or two before forcing himself to get up and pack all his things into his trunk.  
  
After twenty minutes or so, there was a soft hesitant knock on the door.  
  
"Come in," Harry said tiredly.  
  
It was his aunt. "Where are you going? To your friends home, the Weasley's, wasn't it?"  
  
Harry was shocked to see tears in her eyes as she surveyed him.  
  
"No, Aunt Petunia, I'm going off on my own, I won't put them in danger," He said quietly.  
  
"This is the only place that was safe; the spell my headmaster put on this house protected all of us. The dark wizards couldn't get at any of us, but the spell is broken now."  
  
His aunt had tears streaming down her cheeks, "You're badly injured..."  
  
"I'll live; I'll take care of the wounds when I get to my hiding place. I'll be leaving shortly. Goodbye, Aunt Petunia."  
  
Harry turned his back on his aunt and continued with his packing. He heard her leave without saying another word.  
  
In another fifteen minutes Harry was strapping his sorcerer's trunk to his Firebolt, and preparing to fly out through his open window into the deepening night. 


	3. In Hiding

Chapter 3: In Hiding  
  
The Weasleys all sat around in their cozy living room. Mr. Weasley and Bill were having a quiet game of chess, occasionally discussing the news of the day. Fred, George, and Ron sat together on the hearth rug, discussing new products for W.W.W., and concerns about being shorthanded when Ron went back to school.  
  
Fred, jokingly said, "You should quit school now, Ron, come to work with us full time." He had a sly look on his face, as he waited for the glare from his mum.  
  
George, grinning, quickly said, "Just joking, Mum."  
  
Ginny and Mrs. Weasley were sitting happily on the couch discussing details for Bill and Fleur's upcoming wedding, when from the quiet night, there erupted a loud boom from the lane in front of the Burrow. Mr. Weasley and Bill were up in instant, wands drawn, and crossed over to the window. The rest of the family was up a second later, also drawing their wands, all except Ginny, who had left her wand up in her bedroom.  
  
"It's the Knight bus, but who..." Arthur Weasley began.  
  
He and Bill went cautiously out the front door, to see who the unexpected visitor was. Fred and George took defensive positions just inside the door, one to each side. Ron slipped out to follow his father and eldest brother, ignoring his mother's hiss to stay inside. They approached the bus as a young woman with lots of bushy brown hair was descending the steps. When she looked up and saw Ron, she ran to him, throwing her arms around him, and burst into hysterical tears.  
  
"'Mione, what's wrong, what's happened?" Ron asked in a shaky voice. But she couldn't say. Her face was buried in his chest, holding onto him tightly.  
  
Stan, the conductor of the bus, was just unloading Hermione's trunk. He looked at them with frank curiosity.  
  
Mr. Weasley quickly thanked him and said, "Bill, get her trunk and Crookshanks' basket."  
  
Bill nodded, wordlessly aimed his wand at the trunk, and picked up the basket, as Mr. Weasley steered his youngest son and his friend back into the house.  
  
Mrs. Weasley, upon seeing Hermione's state, took control of the situation. She put a motherly arm around her shoulders and led them all into the kitchen.  
  
"Ginny, will you make tea, please," she said as they all sat at the large kitchen table.  
  
It took several minutes before Hermione could get control of herself, the whole time clutching Ron's hand like a lifeline.  
  
Ron helped her sip her tea as Mrs. Weasley said, "Hermione dear, what has happened?" her voice was soothing.  
  
Hermione looked up as tears continued to stream down her face. She said in a shaky voice, "I. . . I didn't know what else to do. I. . . I got a telephone call from Harry."  
  
She proceeded to tell them everything Harry said, leaving out Ginny's part. Everyone at the table was pale and shocked. The other two women now had tears spilling, as much for the danger Harry was in as for the sentiments he sent to them. As she finished her story, her hand never leaving Ron's, they all heard a voice coming from the living room.  
  
"Arthur... Arthur are you there?" It was Mad Eye Moody's voice.  
  
The entire family plus Hermione quickly rose from the table into the adjoining room.  
  
"I'm here Alastor."  
  
"Ah. Good Arthur, I've got some news." The growling voice said from the head in the fireplace.  
  
"Yes, we just heard about Harry. . ."  
  
Mad Eye cut him off, "Potter's there?"  
  
"No, no, Hermione got a pheletone call from Harry, before he left; she just arrived on the Knight Bus."  
  
Moody nodded, before he continued, Ginny pushed her way to the front, tears streaming down her face, asked in a small, quivering voice, "Is Harry. . ."  
  
"No, no, he's alive, I got there with the Aurors, near the end of the battle, he was pretty well beat up, but he refused to go to St Mungo's," he then paused and said with a sigh, "he also refused an escort. . ."  
  
They all looked at his disconnected head in the fire, "We don't know where Harry is."  
  
Harry was high in air; the moonless night still around him. He couldn't get his Firebolt up to top speed—the weight of his trunk was slowing him down a bit, but he was still making very good time. For a while, just being on his broom, he was able to forget about his hurts, for a little while at least. After all this was the first time he was on a broom since the Slytherin match at school nearly a year ago. No matter how much he hurt he couldn't resist a few high speed maneuvers. He considered his options on where to go now as he flew.  
  
He had several ideas on where to hide out. His first idea on where to hide was Hogwarts; he would fly to Hogsmeade, break into Honeydukes, and use the secret passage to get directly into his school. He could use his invisibility cloak to let Dobby know he was there, and arrange for food, and then he could hide in the Chamber of Secrets. That was perfect, as far as he knew only he and Voldemort were the only ones to able get in there. He doubted Voldemort would try to take the school, especially with no students there to use as hostages.  
  
'If it comes to a fight again, I want to fight where I know best,' he thought, 'Hogwarts is definitely my only home turf.'  
  
His plan, at least for that night, quickly changed as he realized he was in no condition to fly that far. He couldn't and wouldn't go to the Burrow, it might be watched, and he refused to put the Weasleys in danger. So for tonight that left Sirius's house in London. He adjusted his course, and started towards Grimmauld place.  
  
After an hour or so of hard flying, his joy of being in the air faded, Harry cursed himself for forgetting to put a cloak on or at least gloves. His hands and face were beginning to numb. He didn't mind his face numb though, it was better than the throbbing. 'But my hands, if I run into any trouble. . .' With that thought still in his mind, he saw a flash of gold and scarlet off to his right, several yards away.  
  
Harry jerked up hard on his broom, coming to a dead stop and pulled out his wand. It nearly slipped from his numb fingers. He spun on his broom, to face the unknown. His eyes staring hard, he sought the source of the flash of color.  
  
"Nothing. . . what the hell was that?" he whispered.  
  
'Maybe I'm just seeing things,' he thought, just as he heard something behind him.  
  
Harry whirled again, and again saw nothing.  
  
"What the hell. . ." Then he saw it, it wasn't an attack. It was a. . . Phoenix. It was fluttering down from its higher position and hovered a few feet in front of him.  
  
"Fawkes?" he said, paused and then said, "No, you're not Fawkes, are you?"  
  
He didn't know how he knew. It was really too dark to see the magical bird clearly, but somehow just knew it wasn't Dumbledore's pet.  
  
"Who are you, then?" he asked the stunning creature.  
  
In response the Phoenix began to sing softly. As always when he heard its kind of song, he felt stronger, more at peace.  
  
"Well, I still have a long way to go tonight; would you like to join me for a while?" Harry asked hopefully.  
  
It was a comfort to not be alone. He wasn't sure if the bird understood, or would come, but as he leaned forward on his broom, he felt the tip of a feather brush his face. It was coming.  
  
After a few minutes, the Phoenix began a slow loop around Harry. The air became softer; the wind in the circle became warmer, and didn't roar in his ears as it had before. Harry began to talk to the bird, to pass the time. It sang a soft song, which lent him the strength to continue.  
  
After a time he said, "Well I don't know who you belong to, but you need a name if I'm going to keep talking to you." The scarlet bird paused in its current loop and looked at him. "Well, my name is Harry, Harry Potter, I think. . ."  
  
"I think I'll call you Falcore, what do you think? Do you like it?" it responded with a louder song, and continued its circuit around him.  
  
Harry smiled, even though it hurt to do so, and continued to chat aimlessly with the bird, as they sped along towards London.  
  
After several hours he neared 12 Grimmauld Place, concentrating hard on the address. He quickly descended from his high altitude. By concentrating while he was descending the house had already appeared when he landed. Not taking the time to disconnect the harness, he laid his broom on top of his trunk and levitated both using his open hand. He drew his wand with the other, and quickly walked to the door. Once there he tapped on it three times with his wand. He heard the multiple locks click, and the door slowly opened. He was closely followed by Falcore, who swooped in after him. He closed the door quickly and silently, and leaned back against it with an audible sigh. He stood in the hallway for just a minute, when he noticed dim light from dancing flames coming from the living room.  
  
"Damn, someone's staying here," he whispered. Harry really didn't feel like answering a bunch of questions right now.  
  
With another audible sign, he lifted his hand again, floating his trunk a few inches off the floor, and proceeded down the hall. He stopped at the doorway to the living room. The fireplace was giving off a soft light; his heart leapt in his chest as he saw Ginny curled up on one of the overstuffed chairs.  
  
He was about to say something when her eyes opened. She gasped and paused only a second before racing across the room, tearing filling her eyes.  
  
"Oh, Harry," she moaned, as she threw her arms around him.  
  
Harry groaned, "Ginny please. . ." he said this with his own tears filling his eyes, though his were mostly from the pain racing through him.  
  
Ginny must have heard the pain in his voice because she pulled away from him quickly, giving him a stricken look.  
  
She began to cry harder, when Harry reached out a hand and gently cupped her cheek.  
  
"It's alright Ginny, don't cry. I'm telling you; under normal circumstances I would be very happy to have your arms around me," he gave her a painful grin.  
  
She gave him a small watery smile in return.  
  
"Ginny," he said, his voice quiet and sounding quite exhausted, "what are you doing here?"  
  
She reached out a hand and grasped his, squeezing slightly, as if to further reassure herself that he was actually there. "Hermione came to the Burrow, told us what happened. Then Mad-Eye gave us a firecall, told us that you survived," she was crying harder now, "but he didn't know where were."  
  
She paused, trying to get control of herself. "Harry, you look awful, we. . . we should get you to St. Mungo's now."  
  
Her eyes were red and puffy, tears were still streaming down her face, and her hair was frizzy and all over the place, but the firelight made it glow red. She looked beautiful.  
  
"Shh. . ." he said. He leaned over carefully and placed a light kiss on her lips.  
  
"Ouch," he whispered.  
  
She giggled slightly at this, her cheeks blushing.  
  
"That's better; I love to see a smile on your face," he gave her a smile in return, "but you didn't say why you were here." He sat down on top on his trunk as his legs were really dead.  
  
"Oh, well. . ." Then something caught her eye. "Is that Dumbledore's bird?" she asked in some confusion.  
  
"No, he just sort of followed me home. I don't know who he belongs to, but I've been calling him Falcore," he continued in a soft voice, "it was nice to have someone to fly here with me."  
  
"Oh, ok. Well, after we spoke to Mad Eye; Ron, Hermione, and I convinced Mum and Dad to let us come here and wait for you, in case you turned up. She, dad, and Bill are waiting at the Burrow, the twins are at the Leaky Cauldron, and Professor McGonagall is waiting to see if you turned out at Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore was out of the country today, in Paris, trying to rally support."  
  
"So that's why they chose today. . ." Harry said absently.  
  
She continued, "We're supposed to give Mum a firecall if you turn up."  
  
"Fine," he said, "but can you convince her not to come tonight? Tell her I just want to sleep. I don't want her to see me like this," his voice was slightly pleading.  
  
"But we should get you to the hospital, Harry."  
  
"I'm fine; really, I just can't deal with anymore today."  
  
She gave him an uncertain look, but then agreed, "Ok, you just sit there and rest. I'll convince Mum." She gave his hand a last squeeze then went over to the fireplace.  
  
She knelt down on the hearth rug, and leaned in. Harry just got a good look at what she was wearing, and his heart gave a little jump. She was wearing a light summer nightdress, which stopped just above her knees. Harry's face flushed, and didn't realize she was done with the call.  
  
"Mum says the Order will be here for a meeting and to see you at around eight in the morning."  
  
She looked worriedly at Harry's expression, and when his full attention returned to her face he was blushing furiously. Ginny then realized what had held his attention, returned his blush, and took his hand again. She wasn't really too embarrassed, but she was very pleased that he could be as hurt as he was and she still had that effect on him.  
  
"Ginny, do you think you can help me clean up and dress my wounds?" he asked her in a quiet, hesitant voice, without looking at her face. He was distressed at having to ask for her help.  
  
"Of course I will, Harry," she said softly, "you don't even have to ask. Here, let me unstrap your broom and we can go upstairs."  
  
Harry stood. Falcore, floated down onto his shoulder, he raised his trunk again, and Ginny gave him a look of surprise at the wandless magic.  
  
"I told you I've been training hard," he said with a sly smile.  
  
Harry limped up the stairs with Ginny right behind him, her hand on the small of his back, as if she was worried he would collapse.  
  
When they reached the second floor she said quietly, "Ron is in the room you two share and Hermione is in ours. Where should we go?"  
  
"Lets go upstairs, I think I'm gonna stay in Sirius' room for now," he said in a sad voice.  
  
And they trudged up the next set of stairs. Harry paused when they reached Sirius's door, with his hand on the knob. Falcore let out a little quavering note, which sent warmth to his heart, and gave him a bit of support.  
  
With a small sigh he opened the door. The room smelled stuffy, but it was just as Sirius had left it.  
  
Harry floated the trunk to a clear space by the window and set it down. He then opened the window a few inches to let in some fresh air.  
  
Ginny walked over to the corner of the room, picked up the stool that was there and brought it closer to the desk for Harry to sit on. When he approached her, she raised her hands, and wordlessly began to remove his robes. When they were off, she and Harry saw the dried blood soaked through the black t-shirt he was wearing.  
  
"This is going to hurt, Harry; the shirt is stuck to all the wounds."  
  
She slowly pulled his shirt up as he clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut with the pain of it.  
  
"Oh. . .Harry," she moaned, tears in her voice again.  
  
He opened his eyes and looked down to see his chest and midsection covered in bruises, welts and cuts, some of which were very deep.  
  
"We can take care of them, no problem!" he said in a bright voice, hoping she wouldn't bring up the hospital again.  
  
Harry pulled a ring with five keys from his hip pocket and carefully sunk down onto the stool.  
  
"Ok, Ginny, are you alright to help me?" He was looking at how much she paled after seeing his chest. He seriously hoped she wouldn't faint, he knew he had no chance to catch her.  
  
With a stricken face she said, "Yes Harry, just tell me what to do."  
  
He chose one key out of the ring, and handed it to her.  
  
"Open the middle keyhole and lift the lid." She looked at him curiously when he said this. She obviously had never seen a sorcerer's trunk before, but she went over and opened it.  
  
That compartment was where he kept his potion equipment as well as the potions he had already mixed.  
  
"There is a large copper pan in there. Bring that, as well as the Mason jar filled with the blue cream and the long thin bottle filled with the red potion."  
  
She quickly found the items, placing them on the desk next to him. With his wand he filled the pan with hot steaming water.  
  
"Could you get a wash cloth out of the bathroom there?" He motioned to the door that led to the adjoining room.  
  
She returned with it after a minute. While she was out of the room, Harry made a very complex motion with his wand and a thick red mist began to ooze out. He held in over his legs first, then his chest and middle, then finally both his arms. His whole body was covered in the red mist.  
  
Ginny gave him a curious look; he said, "Just watch it a few moments."  
  
Suddenly a thin blue line appeared on his shin, and a few seconds later there was a blue blob on his right side.  
  
"Small fracture in my leg and, damn, I thought as much, at least two broken ribs," after another minute he continued, "but no internal bleeding. Well, that's something,"  
  
He looked over at her, and saw her eyes shining; Harry gave her a weak smile as she walked over to him. He opened the thin bottle, filled the cap with the potion, and drank it down. He repeated this, pulled a face and said, "Some blood replenishing potion."  
  
"Why do you even have that?" she asked.  
  
He gave her a tired smile and simply said, "Rough summer."  
  
She stared at him a long minute, then dipped the cloth into the hot water. She began to bathe his wounds thoroughly, being as careful as possible. Harry tried not to flinch too much, but he heard Ginny crying as she watched him in so much obvious pain. Many of the wounds opened again, and the water was quickly thick with blood.  
  
With tears in his eyes, he stopped her. "Ok, that's enough for now; we have to get the worst ones closed."  
  
"Ok Harry, tell me what to do next." It pained Harry's heart to hear the distress in her voice; hopefully he could distract her a little.  
  
"Actually, I was hoping Falcore could give me a little help." He looked over to the owl perch near the window, where the stunning bird sat. "Falcore?" he said hopefully.  
  
The Phoenix took off from the perch and floated down to Harry's knee. He looked over at Ginny to see the curiosity pushing its way through the tears.  
  
"Just watch." And she did, and gasped as Falcore's tears dripped on the four largest wounds, and they healed immediately.  
  
After the fourth wound, which was on the side of his head, Falcore gave a mournful chirp.  
  
Harry stroked its long neck, and said, "No more tears left? That's ok; I can take care of the rest. Thank you Falcore."  
  
He looked over to see Ginny's awed look and shocked smile.  
  
Harry returned her smile, and said, "Just a few more then. I'll need your help again. I'll show you what to do on the cuts I can reach, ok?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"Do you have your wand on you?"  
  
She nodded again.  
  
"Good. Ok, this is the wand movement you need to do." He showed her with his own.  
  
She came closer to watch what he did. As he slowly ran his wand over a cut, holding it less than an inch above, an ordinary-looking scab appeared, except it was bright purple.  
  
She was watching raptly. As he got to the last reachable cut, he asked her to close it so he could guide her hand as she tried to magically close wounds for the first time.  
  
She gave him a satisfied smile as she finished and said, "I've never seen anything like this before."  
  
He returned her smile, and said, "You have a very smooth touch Ginny. It's magical first aid—not quite as good as Madame Pomfrey, but it does the job."  
  
She flushed a little at his compliment.  
  
"Think you can handle the last three? I really don't fancy trying to do it in a mirror."  
  
"Don't be silly Harry, I can close them fine."  
  
And she did his left shoulder and two other small ones, on his lip and on his cheek.  
  
She looked closely at him, to inspect her work, then moved her face closer, and gave him a very soft kiss on his lips. "Better now?" she whispered.  
  
All he could do was smile at her and stare into her eyes. They stayed that way more than a minute before the spell was broken, broken by the pain he still was in.  
  
He looked away first and said softly, "Alright, we really need to finish," he gave her a sly smile and said, "It's already hard enough to breathe, without your help."  
  
He couldn't help but laugh softly as she blushed to the roots of her hair.  
  
"Can you help me spread this salve over the welts and bruises, please, and then I need to take care of my ribs."  
  
She nodded, picked up the jar and opened it. She scrunched up her nose as she got the first whiff of it. He chuckled softly, "I know it smells bad, works good though. Takes the edge off the pain and loosens stiff muscles."  
  
She gave him a look that clearly said she was going to ask again why he had the salve, but then thought better of it and began to apply it liberally.  
  
Harry had tears in his eyes again, and noticed when she was finished that she did too.  
  
"Thanks Ginny, now I have to bind my ribs. I don't mind telling you that I'm not looking forward to this." He said the last with dread in his voice.  
  
She took up his hand, to lend him strength. He smiled gratefully at her, before looking down, tapping the area with the broken ribs three times, and muttered, "Ferrulla."  
  
Wide bandages sprang from the end of his wand. He couldn't help crying out as they tightened around his midsection. The room spun and he nearly fainted.  
  
He regained his senses several long minutes later, to find his face against Ginny's middle. Her arms were around him, stoking his hair and making soft comforting sounds. After another minute his breathing became more regular and he gently removed himself from Ginny's arms.  
  
"See that wasn't so bad," he said in a falsely cheerful voice.  
  
She gave him a wan smile and said, "I think we need to finish cleaning you up." She picked up the pan, and went into the bathroom; he heard her dumping it out and thoroughly rinsing it.  
  
She replaced it onto the desk, and gave him a look. After a moment he gave her a return quizzical look in return. She said, "Well, fill it, silly," and gave him a mock exasperated sigh, "Honestly."  
  
He gave her a smile that thankfully hurt a whole lot less, and proceeded to fill it with a fresh supply of steamy water.  
  
She then began to give his long thick hair a thorough wash; she spent a long time tenderly brushing it out after. She found a piece of black silk ribbon in the bottom of a drawer (obviously a remnant of when Sirius kept his hair long), and tied it back in its loose ponytail.  
  
She wrapped her arms loosely around his shoulders, careful not to touch any bruises. She pressed her cheek against the side of his head, and she whispered in a dreamy voice, "You're not planning on cutting your hair are you, Harry?"  
  
Harry's eyes were half closed, and even though still hurting, he felt content and safe with her arms around him. He answered is the same soft voice, "Not if you don't want me to, lovely lady."  
  
Ginny's heart gave a little flutter at these words, and she squeezed him tighter and planted a firm kiss on an unbruised portion of his face.  
  
After a minute of looking over his shoulder, she noticed the darker spots on his black jeans. "Harry, we haven't finished with all your wounds, have we? Didn't you also say you had a fracture too?" she said softly, "We should really do that now."  
  
"I. . . uh. . . I was thinking I'd wait for Ron and Hermy, in the morning." Harry was embarrassed and then disappointed when he felt her arms leave him. He felt his face flushing.  
  
He turned to look at her, and was surprised to see a hurt look on her face. "Ginny, what's wrong?" he said with concern and then a groan as he stood up too quickly.  
  
She looked at him for a moment, noting his blushing cheeks, and said in a rather annoyed voice, "I understand if you're embarrassed to take your pants off in front of me. . . but why would you be able to in front of Hermione?"  
  
He smiled now, understanding. In an understanding voice he said, "Ginny, if you saw Ron in his underwear would you be terribly uncomfortable?"  
  
"No, of course not, Harry. You know how many brothers I have, it's not like they're exactly careful about it."  
  
"If they saw you in your underwear, would you be terribly uncomfortable?"  
  
"They would be, but me not really, I suppose. I am a lot more careful then the lot of them combined."  
  
"You see, that's how I feel about Hermy, but with you it's. . . it's. . . just different." And without really knowing why, he was blushing more than he ever had before.  
  
Ginny's whole aspect changed. She no longer looked hurt and she was smiling broadly. She had a wonderful twinklely look in her eyes. She pause a moment, replaced her arms around him and planted a firmer kiss on his lips.  
  
Then carefully laid her head on his shoulder and they stood there for long minutes, just holding each other. Harry had a blissful smile on his face, his eyes closed, the top of her head to his cheek.  
  
She let out a small yawn and Harry directed her over to the bed. She was mostly asleep when they got there. He helped her lie down and pulled the covers over her.  
  
Harry began to walk over to the desk; he paused at the large mirror first and for the first time got a good look at himself. He stopped and gaped. His face was puffy, the bruises still darkening, and the welts on his shoulders and chest stood out clearly. He was painful to look at.  
  
After a minute he continued to the desk and pulled out the comfortable low backed chair. He let his mind wander; glancing at Ginny's sleeping face every so often, thinking about all the new feelings that he had never fully considered before. Sometime later, Falcore gave him a little chirp and apparated away. Harry assumed he went out for a nights hunt.  
  
It was several hours later (Harry hadn't slept; it was too painful to even think of) when he heard movement on the floor below. He was looking through an old photo album and he was smiling softly. It was full of old wizarding photos. Just about every one was taken at Hogwarts and mostly featured pictures of his dad, Sirius and Remus, there were even a couple of his Mum.  
  
He thought about getting up and telling Ron and Hermione that he was up here, but his body ached and his legs were so stiff.  
  
After a few minutes, he heard Ron's voice at the end of the hall, "I'm telling you, that's his Firebolt in the hallway. He has to be here and Ginny must be with him."  
  
Then Hermione's voice said, "Oh look, there's a light on in Sirius' room."  
  
The voices were getting closer. He didn't want them to wake Ginny up, so with his wand he opened the door wide, just as the pair was about to knock.  
  
They both gaped at him. Pain wracked both of their faces. At the look of him, Hermione, let out a little squeal, and launched herself at him, tears streaming down her face.  
  
"Shh. . . I'm alright Hermione." He held her comfortingly in his arms.  
  
"Shh. . . you'll wake Ginny." He glanced over to see she was still sleeping soundly.  
  
Ron quietly said, "Yeah, we wondered where she was. When 'Mione woke up to use the loo and found the bed cold, she came and woke me."  
  
Harry responded in kind, "She was in the living room when I got here. She helped me get fixed up, she was so tired. . ." he trailed off, as he looked at her again with a strange look.  
  
He jerked his head back to his friends and was shocked to see a small happy smile on Ron's face. 'Strange. . .'  
  
"Well, Ginny helped patch me up, but I was wondering though, would you two mind helping my patch up my legs?" He blushed slightly.  
  
"Uh. . . we didn't get that far. . ." He blanched at what Ron would think of that, then quickly said, "I was just. . . uh. . . we didn't think it would be a good idea, me sitting here in my. . ." He broke off again, blushing more furiously. He chanced a glance at his two best friends and was shocked to find a pair of amused grins facing him.  
  
Which made Harry blush even more and his friends let out low laughs.  
  
"Well, are you going to help me, or what?" it was all he could think to say.  
  
He hated to ask for help again, but he really had no choice.  
  
Harry rose, and they helped him with his jeans. Ron cursed under his breath when he got a look at Harry's legs. Hermy had tears spilling down her face. He showed them the spells to use to fix him up.  
  
Hermione was fascinated at learning these first aid spells and as usual grasped their use almost immediately.  
  
Her touch wasn't as smooth as Ginny's, but he didn't tell her.  
  
His legs weren't as bad as his chest, so they were done in no time. Harry handed Ron the key ring, asking him to lock the middle lock and then open the first lock. He looked curiously at Harry, but did it anyway.  
  
"Blimey!" he said when he opened the trunk lid again, to find the contents completely changed.  
  
"That's what you meant when you said you got around wizarding law to train; you bought a sorcerer's trunk!"  
  
Harry had to grin at her. She always caught on so quickly. Ron was frowning though—he clearly didn't understand.  
  
"Ron, hand me the brown robes. I don't think I want to try to manage trousers again today and then I'll explain about the training."  
  
Ron brought them over and helped Harry to dress. "Ron, go back to the trunk and lock the first key. Then use this key to open the last."  
  
Hermione walked over with him, and heard them both gasp when they got a glimpse of his 'Training ground'.  
  
"Wow, Harry, this must have cost you a fortune," Hermione said.  
  
"Yeah, between that and all the spell books, it did," after a pause, "Well worth it though, without them, I wouldn't be here right now," he said it a quiet, serious voice.  
  
They all stood in silence until finally Ron said, "You want to talk about it, Harry?"  
  
Harry was already limping across the room to them and said, "I'd rather not right now, Ron, we're going to have to go through it all again, in. . ." He glanced at his watch. "In about an hour."  
  
Hermione put her arms around him, her eyes shining, "We were so scared Harry, we thought we lost you."  
  
Ron made a small sound. They both turned to him and saw his eyes were also shining. They opened up their hug and he joined them. They stood there hugging for more than a minute when Harry leaned over and kissed Hermione's forehead and said, his voice choked up, "You two better go wash up. I need to go down and start a potion."  
  
And they broke apart, each trying to discreetly wipe their eyes. Harry opened the third compartment again; pulled out the potion supplies he needed, put them all in his cauldron, and followed his friends to the door.  
  
Before he got there though, Hermione said in a sly voice, "You know Harry, I've never noticed what nice legs you have—even with all the bruises—and all that training seems to have helped."  
  
Harry stopped in his tracks, a blush creeping up his face.  
  
He heard another sleepy voice that said, from the direction of the bed, "Yes Harry, I never noticed either." Harry fled the room as his face grew even hotter and his two best friends got a good laugh at his expense.  
  
Harry gingerly limped down the stairs. By the time he reached the kitchen level, he was sweating and panting with the effort. He took a minute to compose himself and then continued to the kitchen. He checked at the door. At the far end of the table, reading this morning's paper, sat his Potions Professor, Snape. Careful to control his temper, he said in a level voice, "Good morning Professor."  
  
"Potter," replied Snape with his usual sneer.  
  
'Well, that could have been worse,' he thought.  
  
Harry walked over to a clear countertop and began to unpack his supplies. After filling his cauldron a quarter of the way with water, he hung it on a hook in the fireplace.  
  
He drew his wand and muttered, "Incendio," a bright crackling fire appeared.  
  
Harry walked back to the counter and began to chop and grind up ingredients, adding them to the cauldron at the proper intervals.  
  
After ten minutes or so, Snape, said from behind him, "I see you got your name in the paper again, Potter."  
  
Harry looked over his shoulder at the professor and saw the headline of the paper: POTTER ATTACKED!  
  
He turned his head back around, saying nothing.  
  
After another minute, "So famous Harry Potter is such a powerful wizard that he not only fights off the Death Eaters, but stops to give interviews too," the sneer was much more pronounced now.  
  
Harry again said nothing. 'What the hell does he want from me!?' he thought, 'Like I wanted to be attacked yesterday, just to be in the paper again! LIKE I EVER WANT TO BE IN THE BLOODY PAPER!'  
  
He felt the anger rising again, but kept it in check. He said nothing, just continued to work on the potion.  
  
Harry thought this time Snape would just leave him alone, but after five minutes he continued, "And those touching remarks you made about your father. . ." his voice was scathing now.  
  
Harry's ears began to burn. Hate was welling up in him, no matter how hard he tried to keep it in check. It took all of his will and somehow he remained focused at what he was doing.  
  
He walked over the fireplace, dumped in the last of the ingredients, and began to stir. The potion called for him to stir it one hundred times, fifty very slowly clockwise, then another slow fifty counter. As he began to stir, he heard his three friends come down the stairs. At the same time he heard the front door open and the living room fire emit several popping sounds.  
  
'Good, everyone is getting here for the meeting; I won't have to deal with Snape on my own for much longer.'  
  
No one entered the kitchen yet—he heard Ron questioned by his Mum as to where Harry was.  
  
He then heard Mad Eyes growling, amused, voice saying, "Ah, Minerva, it must've been a terrific battle. I'm sorry I missed it," he continued, "Ah, but I'm glad I got there when I did. Harry let that idiot Fudge have it, but I thought I was gonna have to stop'em from going after that dolt Dawlish."  
  
Harry heard Mr. Weasley's confused voice, "But why would Harry want to go after an Auror?"  
  
He heard Mad Eye chuckle as he said, "Seems the boy took offense to an attack on his Head of House. You shoulda seen him, he was furious at the sight of 'em."  
  
He heard Professor McGonagall's say in an odd soft voice, "Foolish boy. . ."  
  
Harry couldn't help but smile to himself.  
  
That was Snape's cue to start in on him again.  
  
As Ron, Ginny and Hermione entered to kitchen the first thing they heard was Snape's sneering voice, "Tell me Potter, why is it you can mix a difficult potion from memory here and in my class you perform like a first year idiot?"  
  
Harry had had enough. He had just lifted the caldron from the fire, and carried it over to where he had been working to cool.  
  
He turned to Snape, his anger barely leashed. "Perhaps Professor, I'm a better teacher than you can ever hope to be," he said with a hiss.  
  
Harry turned back to his potion and heard Snape's trembling angry voice, "The headmaster wished us to continue your Occlumency lessons when we returned to school. We will continue them here and continue nightly. We shall see if you can teach yourself better with that!" he finished with contempt.  
  
"I don't want your help, nor do I need it, Potions Master," Harry replied, his voice icy now.  
  
He heard Ron begin to speak, when Snape cried out "Legilimens!"  
  
Harry was caught off balance. He fell forward, striking his ribs on the corner of the counter. He let out a loud cry, as the power began emanating off of him. Snape was attacking his mind, but Harry had a surprise for his Potions Master. His eyes were blazing green fire, his face was a mask of rage, and blood was pounding in his ears.  
  
In less than a minute Snape had fallen to his knees, clutching at his temples. Harry turned the spell against him, but instead of trying to read his thoughts, he was causing him extreme pain. Another thing Harry had studied this summer; he wouldn't be an easy target for possession again. After a few moments of writhing on the floor, crying out in pain, Snape tried to raise his wand.  
  
With no more movement than lifting his arm, and opening his hand, the wand flew across the room and Harry caught it.  
  
A voice from the door thundered, "Enough of this!"  
  
Harry looked over at the door and saw his headmaster glaring at him. He released his hold on Snape; he turned his eyes back on him and growled through clenched teeth, "If you ever attack me again, no one, NO ONE, will stop me from having you. DO YOU HEAR ME?!?"  
  
"I said enough, Harry!" Dumbledore said in a loud angry voice.  
  
Harry turned to him; he was trembling with pain and anger to see that his headmaster was joined in the room by Kingsley, Tonks, Mad Eye, Remus, and Mr. Weasley.  
  
Dumbledore turned to Tonks and Kingsley, and said, "Please help Severus into the next room." He turned to the two Weasleys and Hermione and said, "Please excuse us for a moment."  
  
When Harry caught Ginny's eye, he was hurt to see she looked at him slightly fearfully. Harry was clutching the edge of the counter, trying to steady his ragged breath, when Dumbledore said in his thunderous voice, "I've told you time and time again that I trust Professor Snape. I understand you've had a rough time of it, but that is no excuse."  
  
He continued in the same voice, "I don't know what you've done to yourself this summer, but your anger and powers are totally out of control!!"  
  
Instead of calming down, Harry became more enraged at his headmaster's words. "How very nice for you to trust Snape, but I never have and I never will," he growled, "And as far as being in control of my temper and my powers, I think I did pretty well, else we would have been scraping him off the ceiling!" now his voice a low roar.  
  
"Calm yourself, immediately!" Dumbledore said angrily.  
  
The other wizards in the room took an involuntary step backwards at the raw power coming from the two in front of them.  
  
Harry spoke in a forced calm voice, but it still came close to a snarl, and he still glared at his headmaster, "I was attacked from behind, what would you have had me do???"  
  
Dumbledore just returned his gaze, still looking furious.  
  
Harry turned to Mad Eye, "What would you have done it he attacked you, Mad Eye?"  
  
Moody said nothing, but gave him an evil grin.  
  
He turned his head slightly and said, "Remus? Mr. Weasley? What would you have done?"  
  
They didn't answer him either.  
  
Harry turned to his headmaster and said in a quiet but clear voice, "So me, the only one here being actively hunted, is just supposed to just sit back whenever he wants to attack me for no reason? I'm sorry, but I don't think so."  
  
After staring Harry in the eye for a long minute Dumbledore said in a stern voice, "Drink your potion, Harry, the meeting will begin shortly." His headmaster began to turn away.  
  
"I meant what I said professor, if he attacks me again. . ."  
  
Dumbledore looked him in the eye again and then with a slight nod of his head, softly said, "Yes, Harry, I can see that you would try." And he led the other three wizards out of the room.  
  
Harry filled a goblet and limped over to sit at one end of the table, clutching his ribs, and sipped the potion slowly. After a few minutes his ragged breath calmed and he heard the door open behind him.  
  
"You alright Harry?" Ginny asked in a soft voice.  
  
He nodded without turning around. He heard her turn to leave; he sighed and said, "I'm sorry I frightened you, Ginny."  
  
She paused for a second, then walked over to him, and took the chair next to him; he couldn't bear to look into her eyes. He didn't want to see that scared look again.  
  
She laid a hand over his on the table, and said softly, "You didn't really; I think I was more shocked. It was like last year, after the dementors attacked you—we saw Dumbledore angry and you can't help but be a little. . ." she trailed off.  
  
She squeezed his hand. He looked up then, and looked into her eyes. There was no fear, and he was glad. They exchanged small smiles and then Ginny's changed into a sly grin and said, "Remind me never to get you mad at me." She was trying to lighten Harry's mood.  
  
"How can I ever get mad at you?" he replied in a quiet serious voice.  
  
They sat for a few minutes in thoughtful silence, then Harry let go of her hand, leaned back in his chair and started covering his ribs in the red mist again.  
  
Dumbledore entered seconds later, asking after a glance at what Harry was doing, "Was any further damage done?"  
  
Harry shook his head, not looking at his headmaster. Members of the Order, Ron, and Hermione entered the kitchen.  
  
When Mrs. Weasley entered the kitchen and got her first glimpse of Harry, she wailed, "Ohh, Harry! Albus, we need to get him to St. Mungo's directly."  
  
When Harry tried to rise from his chair, and greet her properly, he was held down with a hand on the shoulder from both Mrs. Weasley and Professor McGonagall. So he said from his chair, softly but firmly, "Thanks Mrs. Weasley, Professor, but I'm not going to the hospital."  
  
Everyone around the table began talking all at once.  
  
Dumbledore cut everyone off, "Please everyone let us sit down and we shall discuss this."  
  
It was Moody who spoke up first, "Look Harry, I saw you yesterday; I know what kind of condition you were in."  
  
"And I did notice the broken ribs when I walked in," Dumbledore said in a quiet voice, giving Harry his penetrating gaze. "Harry what are your reasons for not going to St. Mungo's? Those wounds should be tended to."  
  
Harry took a deep breath and began, "My injuries are taken care of, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione helped me care for them. Oh, and Falcore helped to," he said as an afterthought.  
  
Dumbledore broke in now. "Who is this Falcore, and how did you get him into this place without me giving him the address?"  
  
Moody said before Harry could respond, "POTTER, this is a secret meeting place, HOW IN THE HELL can you bring someone not cleared here!" he said this very angrily.  
  
Ginny eyes flashed with anger, and was about to speak up and defend Harry, but he caught her eye and shook his head.  
  
Harry said, "Actually he sort of followed me here; Let me introduce you before you string me up, Mad Eye."  
  
He turned towards the door and called out "Falcore. . . Falcore, come down here and meet my friends."  
  
There was a flash of fire behind Harry, and a soft warm weight settled on his shoulder.  
  
There were gasps around the table, then after a moment of silence, "Potter," Moody said in an exasperated voice, "you could've told me Falcore's a ruddy bird."  
  
Everyone around the table laughed.  
  
"I don't know who he belongs to. Like I said he just followed me here. It was nice to have the company on the trip back and well, Falcore seemed like a good name."  
  
"Harry," Dumbledore said, with a small smile for the first time today. "A witch or wizard cannot purchase a Phoenix, nor can one wizard give one to another. A Phoenix chooses who he's going to work and fight alongside."  
  
Harry had a soft smile on his face. He reached up to stroke Falcore's neck, and said quietly, "Thank you for choosing me. I'll try not to let you down."  
  
Falcore made not a sound but leaned his head down, to rub against Harry's cheek.  
  
Dumbledore continued in a slightly sad, soft voice, "Fawkes joined me shortly before I faced Gindlewald."  
  
The room silenced as he said this, making the connections to what he said. Harry stared down at the table; he couldn't face anyone's eye for a moment.  
  
Before anyone else could speak, Professor McGonagall spoke, "Harry, that doesn't explain about not going to the hospital."  
  
Harry was thankful for the interruption. He responded in a quiet voice, "It's very simple Professor. I'm not going to be seen with anyone in public and I'm in no condition for another fight."  
  
Before anyone could speak up, he continued more forcefully, "Anyone seen with me will become a target. I have no doubt they're still looking for me."  
  
After another deep breath, he continued, "Didn't it say in the Prophet today that I went into hiding alone?"  
  
Hermione broke in angrily before Harry could finish. "Yes I saw that and after this meeting I'm planning on writing the ministry a nice note about RITA SKEETER!"  
  
Both he and Ron turned sharply to her and hissed, "Hermione, shut up!"  
  
It was too late though. Moody was the first to answer, he said with an evil grin, "So you lot have something on Skeeter," he laughed, "that could be very useful."  
  
Professor McGonagall spoke next, "I wondered how you got her to write a decent article about what happened to you in the Quibbler last term."  
  
Harry sighed, giving Hermione a comforting smile—she looked horrified at the slip up. "Yes, well, we now have an understanding. I asked her to put the part in about me hiding out alone. I reckoned that would keep the death eaters away from you all."  
  
Harry glanced at his headmaster, who gave him a small nod of understanding.  
  
Moody spoke up then, "Did you ask her to keep Mundungus's name out of the paper? I was wondering why it wasn't."  
  
Harry nodded, "The story about my parents' friends keeping an eye on me was the best I could come up with to explain why he was there."  
  
He looked around the table, and the adults were giving him approving nods.  
  
Moody said quietly, "That was good thinking Harry; you couldn't do any more than you did. And I mean during the fight as well as after."  
  
Everyone around the table made approving sounds.  
  
"How is Dung?" he asked in a sad sort of voice.  
  
Dumbledore answered, "He will be fine in a couple of days, Harry. I saw him this morning. He told me how you took up position in front of him, defending him as you fought. A most difficult way to duel."  
  
Harry nodded, "Yes I know, and I have the bruises to show for it." He tried for a little levity, but failed miserably.  
  
"You have to attend the hearing at the ministry in two days."  
  
Harry nodded, "Yeah, Fudge told me." He glanced at Moody who smiled; Harry hoped he wouldn't go into the details of his rant at Fudge, and most especially not what he said to Percy.  
  
"I will see you there, and pretend to be seeing you for the first time. After the hearing I will escort you to St. Mungo's. I don't think you have to worry about putting me in danger," Dumbledore said, the corners of his lips twitching, "so you just have to take it easy for the next couple of days."  
  
Ginny spoke next, "Ron, Hermione, and I can stay here and help you out."  
  
Harry spoke a bit more forcefully that he intended, "No, Ginny. Haven't you been listening? Everyone must act as if they don't know where I am and if you three disappear all of a sudden. . ." he trailed off, seeing the hurt, but also somewhat angry look on her face.  
  
He said in a softer voice, "Ginny I'm sorry, but I won't put you all in more danger than I already have. If they are watching and I'd bet a thousand galleons they are, they will notice if Ron suddenly doesn't show up for work, or they don't see you around the Burrow, or Hermione isn't there either. I'm sure they noticed the Knight Bus last night."  
  
"But. . ." Ron started to say.  
  
"Ron, listen mate," Harry said quietly, "what do you think I'd do if I got a letter tomorrow that said they'd taken one of you?"  
  
He glanced at Ginny, "Do you think I wouldn't come, even if next time it was Voldemort himself that had one of you?" he paused, "Do you honestly think I wouldn't come?"  
  
No one said anything, and he continued in a small voice, "I'm not ready. . . but I would come."  
  
Ginny lost her hurt and angry look and looked at him now with a combination of affection and fear for him.  
  
Ron was looking sadly down at the table, and Hermione's eyes were shining.  
  
"Harry," Mrs. Weasley put in quietly, "we just can't leave you here all alone."  
  
He smiled wearily at her, "It can't be worse than being at my aunt and uncles. . . besides order members will be in and out I'm sure."  
  
"You haven't mentioned what you're going to do when we get back to school. . ."  
  
Harry looked her in the eye for a long moment, and replied softly, "I haven't worked everything out yet, Hermy."  
  
Mrs. Weasley said quietly, "You can still get visitors in the evening. No one will realize if they Floo here after dark. This way I know I can at least send you one good meal a day. You're still terribly thin, Harry."  
  
Harry couldn't help but smile to this woman who was the only mother he could remember and nodded gratefully. He noticed Ron, Hermione and Ginny beaming at Mrs. Weasley.  
  
After a pause he decided to change the subject. He looked over to Kingsley and Tonks, "What about the one I captured? Any information about him?"  
  
Kingsley answered in his deep quiet voice, "Not yet Harry. We got a name, but not much else. He didn't go to Hogwarts. The other Aurors are checking into things."  
  
"By the way, Harry, that was a brilliant piece of transfiguration, catching that Death Eater like that," Tonks said with an appreciative smile.  
  
"Oh, what's this?" Professor McGonagall, his Transfiguration teacher, spoke up now, curiosity in her voice.  
  
Harry really didn't want to think anymore about yesterday. He paused giving the chance for someone else to answer.  
  
Luckily Moody was impressed too, so it was him that spoke up. "It was brilliant, Minerva, Harry had a tree smack around the filth, then snatched him up into the air and wrapped him up nicely."  
  
"Hit him with a Disapparation jinx first, didn't you, Potter?" That was Kingsley's.  
  
Harry nodded, and Dumbledore continued, "I think that's all for this morning. Harry needs to rest." And with that the meeting began to break up.  
  
Before Mrs. Weasley left the room, she gave him a soft hug, and kiss on the cheek, "Harry, your hair has gotten so long! It really needs a trim, dear."  
  
Harry gave her a sly smile and said in a mock serious voice, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley, but I'm under orders not to cut it."  
  
Ginny spoke up from behind her mother and said without thinking, "It wasn't exactly an order, Harry. . ." then broke off when she realized what she had said in front of all the Order members. Blushing to the roots of her hair, she positively fled the room. Hermione and Tonks, both giggling, ran after her.  
  
Mrs. Weasley smiled softly at him and the rest said their good-byes.  
  
Moody was trailing the group.  
  
"Moody, can I have a word before you go?"  
  
"Sure, what's up, Harry?"  
  
Harry took a moment to organize his thoughts, "Do you think I'm handling this right? I mean with the Weasleys and all. I know they're in danger because of me, but I just don't know what else to do. . ."  
  
Mad Eye looked him in the eye for a moment then said, is a soft growl, "You care about them a lot, don't you?"  
  
"They're my family, Mad Eye, the only family I've ever known and I know them being that has made them targets, too."  
  
"Harry, I don't think you can do more than you have done. We've set up protection spells all over the Burrow, so it's pretty safe. I'll be honest with you, the only other thing you could do is run, separate yourself totally. But running is no kind of life and you'd have the Ministry and the Order on your tail too," he said the last with a small grin.  
  
"I've thought about running, leaving the country even. . . I looked into some things. . ." Harry said in a small voice.  
  
"Harry, you've done all we could ask of you and more; always have, from what Albus has told me. We're all playing it by ear now, so that's what you're gonna have to do. Think things through, like you've been mostly doing. That's all you can really do."  
  
"Thanks, Mad Eye." Moody clapped him on the shoulder and left the room.  
  
Harry grabbed his goblet, filled it, and sat. He sat for a long time, sipping his potion, thinking about the events of the past twenty-four hours. Though even with all that had happened, his thoughts found their way back to Ginny. Even through his feelings of rage at Snape and the Death Eaters, or his fear for his friends, or his slight nervousness for the upcoming hearing, whenever he thought of her, he felt warmth inside. Harry didn't understand it. It had never felt that way before and even thought he'd only felt it for a short time, he had to admit it was something he would miss if it was taken away from him. After a time, he heard the door behind him opened and saw his favorite werewolf step into the kitchen.  
  
"Hello again Remus," he said in a tired voice. Remus Lupin had an odd look on his face and he quickly said, "What's wrong?"  
  
Remus gave a mirthless chuckle as he took a seat next to Harry at the table. "Harry, you look like you've been to hell and back and you ask me what's wrong? I would've thought you went to get some sleep."  
  
"I really haven't slept all that much this summer, too much to do, too many things on my mind."  
  
Remus just surveyed him. It was obvious he had something to say to Harry, but was having trouble getting it out.  
  
After another moment he said, "Look Harry, I know you and I aren't as close as you and Sirius were. . . I know what he meant to you." His voice cracked slightly.  
  
Harry interrupted him before he could continue. "Remus, I care about you as much as I. . ." his throat closed at when it came to saying Sirius's name. "You two were like brothers to my dad, and that's how I always will think of you," his voice was soft and emotional, "My two uncles."  
  
He continued, "You know at the Dursley's I had no friends or anyone at all to talk to. I used my imagination a lot; I always thought that if Peter," (his voice hardened on the name) "had never gotten away. . . well, I always thought it would have been the three of us."  
  
"Sirius, you and me," his voice choked a little. He chuckled softly after seeing Remus's wide mouthed expression and continued, "He was a great man, but you think he couldn't have raised me up from a baby on his own?"  
  
At this Harry saw Remus's eyes shining. He let out a soft chuckle, then said, "I suppose you're right Harry, I'm often too closed up about expressing my feeling and I want you to know that I always thought of you as my family."  
  
Harry smiled softly at his 'uncle.' "You and I started out as teacher and student, so I guess we had an awkward start. Sirius, well you saw what Azkaban did to him and being on the run. I was always so worried about him, up until the end. . ." he couldn't continue.  
  
Remus noted this. "Harry, do you want to talk about this?"  
  
Harry choked out, "I can't. . ."  
  
Remus reached out and placed a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder.  
  
This gave him a chance to compose himself before he said, "There is more you want to say though, isn't there?"  
  
Remus nodded sadly, "We don't know exactly what you've done to yourself this summer, but Albus has some ideas. We're worried about you, Harry," He paused, then, "I know how powerful a wizard you are, even at your age, but you can still cause yourself great harm and more than a little pain."  
  
"Pain, Remus," he said in a dead voice, "I already know pain; I know it more than most wizards, I can't do more than that has already been done to me. The Crucio, the nightmares, Voldemort trying to posses me directly, getting Sirius. . ." his throat closed on him again.  
  
Remus squeezed his shoulder tighter, but kept silent.  
  
After several long minutes, Harry looked at him in the eye for a moment before saying, "You know about the Prophesy, don't you." It wasn't a question.  
  
Remus nodded.  
  
"I have a feeling Sirius knew. Who else?" he asked quietly.  
  
"Sirius and I knew from when you were a baby, Harry."  
  
Harry's eyes snapped to him.  
  
Remus looked at him sheepishly, "We decided not to tell you earlier—actually Dumbledore convinced us that since Voldemort was still gone, there was no reason to give you more to worry about. We wanted you to be happy for once in your life, to have friends, to learn to be a wizard just like those around you. To be a normal young wizard and not just the Boy-Who-Lived."  
  
"I have to disagree with you, Moony. I should've been told the moment I walked into Hogwarts," he said in a firm, almost angry, voice, "I should've been preparing all this time."  
  
"Harry, you also needed time to have friends—and you have very true friends—and you had to have the chance to be a boy."  
  
Harry laughed mirthlessly. "A boy, Moony? I fought Voldemort and Quirrell when I was eleven. I nearly got the three of us killed. At twelve I fought a basilisk, and Ginny and I nearly died, Ron and I nearly had our memories wiped, and Hermy was petrified. Should I continue?"  
  
Remus looked heartbroken, and shook his head slightly.  
  
They sat there in silence for a while, till Harry said, "I wish we could've grown up in a different time. Do you realize with Hermy's brains, Ron's head for strategy and my brainless bravery, we might have even outdone the Marauders?" his voice was wistful, "And now Ginny in the mix. . . Yeah, I think we could've given you lot a run for your money."  
  
Then he spoke in an almost whisper, "How can I protect them now, now that they're in danger because of me? I have no choice now, Moony, I need to study, I need to train, they will come again for me soon. We wouldn't be talking right now if I hadn't been doing everything I did this summer. And I still nearly died. . ." his voice trembled again.  
  
"Harry, you don't have to do this alone. . ."  
  
Harry now cut in loudly and slightly more angrily, "Yes I do Remus! I only wanted help from one person yesterday—Dumbledore. I won't allow anyone else be killed for me."  
  
"Harry. . ." Remus began in a soothing tone.  
  
Harry snapped up from his chair, ignoring the pain. He shouted, "Look at me, Remus, two men you thought of as brothers are dead because of me! My Mum! Dead! Cedric Diggory, who just became someone I called friend! Dead!"  
  
"How many good people have to die because of me. . ." he ended in a choked whisper.  
  
Before Remus could say anything, Harry stormed out of the room. He just couldn't deal with anyone anymore.  
  
Harry heard Order members come and go at various points during the day. He didn't speak to any of them, though. After his talk with Remus, he retreated into the drawing room and summoned the books he was working with right now and threw himself into study, as he had done since he left school. He heard voices from the living room sometimes, heard his name mentioned. He assumed Remus was telling everyone to avoid him. He was glad no one came up to see him, as he really couldn't deal with any more. Whenever he let himself get distracted from work he began to shake and tremble with sadness and worry. It was quiet for a long time. Harry was curled up on the sofa, no less then five spell books open around him, when he heard voices again.  
  
He looked up and saw by the darkness from the windows that he had worked the day away yet again. This was another day where he hadn't eaten, but he wasn't particularly hungry so it made little matter. He heard footsteps coming up the stairs and he prepared himself to face whoever it was.  
  
After a moment there was a soft knock at the door. Harry looked up to see Ginny carrying a tray and looking at him with unmasked concern.  
  
"Harry, may we come in?" she asked hesitantly.  
  
Harry gave her a weak smile and said, "Of course, please come on in."  
  
She was followed by Ron and Hermione. Hermione pulled the coffee table closer to Harry, and Ginny placed the tray in front of him. When she uncovered it he saw enough food for three people.  
  
Ginny said with a small smile, "Mum heard you haven't eaten at all today."  
  
Harry smiled back, and said, "Tell her thanks, Gin, put the cover back on it for now, not very hungry."  
  
He looked around at all of their concerned faces, and quickly sought to change the subject, "Well, sit down. Butterbeer, anyone?" And without thinking he raised his open hand and summoned them.  
  
After he caught the four bottles, he passed them out, noticing the open mouth expressions from his friends. "What's wrong?"  
  
"You just used a summoning charm without your wand," Hermione said in a shaky voice.  
  
"Oh, yeah, I guess I have a knack for some wandless magic," he said dismissively.  
  
They sat in silence for a few minutes sipping their Butterbeer. Hermione was the first to break the silence. She was looking at the books around Harry. "Would you mind if I took a look at your books, Harry?"  
  
Harry didn't mind, especially since none were in English. He handed them over.  
  
After another moment, Ginny said, "This one isn't in English."  
  
Ron followed, "Neither is this one."  
  
Hermione next said, "Nor is this one, and none seem to be in the same language."  
  
She paused and then asked quietly, "Harry how many languages do you speak now?" she looked unsure of wanting the answer.  
  
Harry paused, and then said, "Including Parseltongue, fifteen."  
  
They gasped.  
  
Harry continued, "Well a lot of the books I have aren't in English."  
  
Ron looked like he wanted to ask how it was possible, Hermione looked as if she had an idea of what Harry had been putting himself though for this knowledge, and Ginny looked at him strangely. She did know the most of what he did this summer. Harry didn't want to have this conversation, so he quickly fished around for something to talk about.  
  
"So Ron, how was work today? How is WWW doing?" he said quickly.  
  
"Aww, it's brilliant, Harry, the place is always packed. I tell you Fred and George are great to work for. They don't treat me like I'm their little brother there, you know. They are great bosses. I don't think we stop laughing the whole day. And they're making a fortune with what they love to do."  
  
Harry gave him a small smile, and nodded. "That's just great!" he said truthfully. It was one of his better ideas, giving them his tri-wizard winnings to start the store; it made him a little more content.  
  
"Oh, and they're gonna stop by and see you in the next couple of days, after work. We told them to be discreet."  
  
Harry nodded, trying to build on his slight contentment, he said in a bright voice, "And how did you two ladies spend the day?"  
  
They spoke for a couple of hours, all seeming to want to keep the conversation light, speaking of Quidditch and new WWW products. Ron actually got Harry to laugh a couple of times at mishaps the twins had had with developing new joke supplies. Finally it was time for the trio to leave. Hermione came around the table and gave him a soft hug and kiss on the cheek, and he and Ron clapped hands for a moment, Ron looking as if he wanted to say something. Lastly came Ginny. She must have given the other two a signal, for they disappeared before she came all the way around the table. She didn't say anything, just looked into his eyes, her hand reaching up to stroke his hair and cheek.  
  
She said, "You haven't slept today, have you."  
  
He shook his head softly, his eyes never leaving hers.  
  
"And you didn't sleep last night, unless you snuck into bed with me without me knowing," she paused before saying, "Not that I would've minded," she said in a mock serious voice, a twinkle in her eye.  
  
"If I would have known..." even though he was trying to keep the mood light, sadness crept into his voice.  
  
Ginny was looking at him with concern. "Try and get some rest, Harry, and eat something."  
  
"I'll try."  
  
She put her arms around him gently, and he returned the gesture, although a bit tighter than she.  
  
He felt that safe feeling again, and thought, 'Like this, I think I could sleep.'  
  
This disturbed him though. He was protecting them—he couldn't afford to get any closer, no matter how much he wanted to, needed to.  
  
He softly disentangled himself from her, and said in a terribly sad voice, "The others are waiting, Ginny, you had better go."  
  
She looked at him, frowning slightly, then nodded and left without a word.  
  
He stared at the doorway she had just left through for a long while. He felt empty and cold inside. He shook himself awake after another minute, pushed the tray of food away from him and began his work again.  
  
Remus came up soon after to bid him goodnight, advising him to go to bed soon, but left without saying anything else.  
  
Many hours later, several after sunrise actually, found Harry Potter amidst a dozen or so heavy tomes, two dozen rolled up parchments, and one overlarge one. The overly large one Harry was poring over, making little notes, in different color inks, and occasionally diving into one of those large spell books for clarification. He had started this particular project after getting Moody's reply on how to properly defend himself from a particularly powerful, dark curse. The easier shield charms weren't enough, and the more complex ones were more curse specific. Which it to say that you needed to have an idea of what your opponent was going to do and use the proper shielding. Each one of them was incredible difficult. 'Can't even do one of them properly yet,' he thought to himself with disgust. He had tried it in under pressure during the attack, but it fizzled miserably. One of the times he came close to being killed. Lucky for him, Moody's reply and his inability to master the advanced shielding charms quickly led him to create a new magic, his own magic, his own spells.  
  
They had learned a little about spell design in charms class, but it wasn't nearly enough. After several grueling absorption rituals, his knowledge of the subject matter increased immensely.  
  
He knew in his heart he would eventually master the spells, but he needed something for now, something the scum hadn't seen before, and if possible something easy enough for his friends to be able to use.  
  
It was incredibly difficult; he would not be able to create his own magic from scratch, not yet anyway. But he was basing this spell on the moderately difficult Protego shield charm, which most witches/wizards were able to use efficiently by their fifth year at school. He used his modified shield charm in the battle. It worked much better than the original, without the reflecting effect, but if Harry was to survive, it needed to be much stronger.  
  
Harry was so engrossed in what he thought was a breakthrough that he hadn't realized someone was talking to him.  
  
"Harry. . .HARRY!"  
  
"What. . .oh, sorry, Remus." Harry glanced at the windows and was slightly shocked to see the sun up, "Good morning."  
  
"Harry, have you been up all night working?" he asked slightly sternly.  
  
"What. . . yes. . . I guess I got inspired last night. . ." he trailed off, studying his chart again.  
  
"Good morning, Harry," said a different voice.  
  
Harry looked up again. "Oh, sorry, good morning Professor, uh. . .I'm sorry, could you and Remus just give me a minute please, I think I might be onto. . ." he trailed off again.  
  
The both took seats opposite them again, and watched him with slightly bemused expressions, which turned to fascination the more they watched.  
  
Harry was diving into books and scrolls with abandon. His eyes seemed to be slightly glowing. He would check a passage in book or scroll, then go back to his spell model (which if looked at directly, would seem to be a moving, perfectly scaled, three dimensional drawing), check his notes on it, then continue to the next. This continued for more than five minutes, and then Harry's whole aspect changed to one of utter disappointment. He sighed deeply, and then looked up from his work.  
  
After a moment of silence Dumbledore spoke, "I did not realize part of your obviously extensive study this summer included spell design."  
  
Harry didn't know what to say. If Dumbledore knew the true extent of his studies this summer, he was sure his headmaster would not be speaking so calmly.  
  
"And I must tell you I am none too enthused as to some of the books I see in front of you."  
  
Harry spoke up now, "I need to know what I'm up against, sir."  
  
Dumbledore sighed deeply, but kept his penetrating gaze fixed on Harry.  
  
Harry in turn did not avert his eyes, he knew what he was doing was necessary.  
  
"So you thought you were onto something?"  
  
"I thought I was, I thought I had it. I thought I'd managed to perfect it, but I just realized the whole structure would collapse, probably in the face of the conjurer."  
  
Dumbledore's lips twitched and he said in a sly voice, "Never a good way to start a duel."  
  
They continued to gaze at each other for a moment, till the professor said, "Harry, Remus told me some of what you talked about yesterday; I am as worried as he is about you. I know some of the things you've done to yourself, Harry, and I know what absorption rituals can take out of an adult wizard. I also have the very strong suspicion that you've done much worse to yourself."  
  
Harry quickly got the vision of himself curled up in his trunk's chamber, covered in sweat, too tired and hurt to move. He shuddered, hoping no one noticed.  
  
Dumbledore's gaze never left Harry; he continued quietly, "We are all here to help you, Harry, whenever you need us, whether with help with magic, or advice of any kind."  
  
Harry nodded, "Thank you Remus, Professor. . ."  
  
Both Remus and Dumbledore had the feeling that Harry wouldn't ask for help, but they couldn't think of a way to convince him at the moment.  
  
"Very well, Harry," Dumbledore said with a small sigh, "you must, however eat and sleep. No matter who the wizard is, we must all eat and sleep, for our health and to keep our magic strong, and in your case, to continue to grow."  
  
"Molly should be here by now, Albus. Harry I suggest you eat everything she puts in front of you," Remus said with a sad smile, "you look much worse today, and if you don't let her see you eat she may decide to drag you to the hospital no matter what you say."  
  
Harry nodded and began to rise. He nearly shrieked as he stood, since he forgot to reapply the salve, and as he had been curled up on the sofa, his whole body seemed to have seized up. Remus caught him before he could fall into the coffee table.  
  
After Harry straightened up, he tried to alleviate the worried faces looking at him, and he said quickly, "I'm just sore is all, I'm fine really."  
  
Dumbledore stared at him for a moment and drew his wand. He gave it a complicated little wave. As soon as he finished a very old walking stick appeared in midair. Dumbledore caught it deftly, and said, "Harry, this is a family heirloom. I want you to use it for the next few days."  
  
"Thank you, Professor." He was getting a good look at it now. It was amazing; runes were cut into it, as well as designs he could almost recognize. "It's beautiful sir. I will take good care of it. Thank you again."  
  
Dumbledore had led them out of the room, but after only two shaky, stiff steps, Harry stopped dead, his eyes fixed on the head of the staff. The two men in front of him noticed, and stopped to look to see if Harry was ok.  
  
Harry started muttering under his breath, eyes never leaving the staff, eyes that looked oddly distant. Remus began to speak, obviously worried, but Dumbledore, looking at Harry with frank curiosity, put a hand out to stop him from interrupting.  
  
After a moment, Harry's voice, though distant, said clearly, "The staff is embedded with spells," another pause, and more muttering. "A weak form of a shield charm. . . is that an. . . endurance charm?. . . and hmm..." more muttering. Harry's eyes seemed to be glowing brighter, something which Remus and Dumbledore noticed, "Some form of weather repellant?"  
  
After another minute he looked up at the pair. Dumbledore spoke very solemnly, "Very good Harry. . .you have been studying hard, you did miss a thing or two though. When we have time, I will tell you about the history behind that staff. I have no doubt you will be interested."  
  
Breakfast was a quiet affair, except for the few minutes after Mrs. Weasley got her first look at him. He read his paper, and forced himself to eat everything that was put in front of him.  
  
Remus, Molly and Albus were talking quietly at the opposite end of the table for much of the time, until Professor Dumbledore said to Harry, "Are you alright for the hearing tomorrow? If you have any questions you should ask them now. I don't think we will see each other until the hearing itself."  
  
Harry thought about it for a moment. He hadn't really seriously considered it up till now; he was too preoccupied with work. "Uh. . .I don't think so, Professor."  
  
The three at the opposite end of the table were looking at him with concern. Harry pretended not to notice, as he really didn't know what to say. He merely buried his face in the paper once more.  
  
When everyone left Harry returned to the drawing room, and his books, and studied sedately.  
  
He whiled away the day, not noticing the sun go down. When his friends came again this night, it was a much shorter visit. He told them he needed to try to sleep, to prepare for the hearing the next day. Ginny did force him to eat something in her presence. His reassurance didn't convince her in the least.  
  
Harry never did make it up to Sirius's room that evening; he dozed every so often to awaken with a jolt, the images of disturbing dreams forgotten as soon as he awoke. He stayed on the sofa till the sun broke the darkness again. 


	4. Return to the Ministry

Chapter Four: Return to the Ministry  
  
After more than a bit of groaning and stretching Harry was able to hobble up to Sirius's bedroom to prepare for his day at the Ministry. He really couldn't take a proper shower, as his wounds needed to stay dry, so he had to make do with a quick rinse, but at least he was able to wash his hair.  
  
'Wish Ginny was here to brush it for me, it looked great when she did it—didn't feel all that bad either.' He grinned at the thought.  
  
When his hair was tied back, he began the search for proper garments. He thought about this for a few minutes. Did he have anything appropriate? Harry didn't want to wear Muggle clothes, nor did he want to wear his school robes. He had thought long and hard about this last night. He did not want to appear like a child or a Muggle. He wanted to appear the way he wanted to be treated—a wizard, plain and simple. His work robes were a bit dingy by now and both sets of dress robes were also inappropriate for the occasion.  
  
A thought occurred to him. 'Perhaps something of Sirius'?'  
  
The thought was almost comforting. After a thorough search through the closet and wardrobe, Harry had several choices. Most had not been worn for a long time; they weren't all that big on him. After some magical alterations he settled on a set of dark plum robes.  
  
Harry checked the mirror, and with the exception of his bruised up face, he thought he looked pretty good, like a 'respectable wizard.' He checked his watch; he had an hour before he had to Floo to the Ministry. He hobbled down the stairs with the help of Dumbledore's walking stick, the first waves of nervousness creeping up on him. Entering the kitchen he found Remus already sitting there, sipping a cup of tea.  
  
"Morning."  
  
"Morning, Harry. Sit down, cup of tea? Some breakfast?"  
  
Harry took a seat. "Tea's fine, Remus, not very hungry, thanks."  
  
As his tea was poured, Remus looked at him for a moment before saying, "Nervous?"  
  
"A bit. I should've asked Dumbledore the procedure for today, slipped my mind though. I expect it'll be different from my hearing last year,"  
  
Remus gave him a small smile. "Yes Harry, you won't be present for most of the trial; you'll be in a separate room, with a two way mirror, so you can watch."  
  
He continued, "Since they have the letter, and the fact that you're still underage, they should only have to ask you a few questions at the end. Hopefully it will be pretty much settled once you get there." Harry nodded. "What kind of questions, do you think?"  
  
"I'm sure they'll ask for details of the duel, your point of view, they might ask you to contradict or confirm the statements they have already.  
  
"One thing we learned though, is that the man comes from an old wizarding family, so I'm sure they'll have a well paid advocate on their side. "Think you're up to it?" Remus asked concern in his voice.  
  
"Yeah, I reckon I can handle it."  
  
"Oh, one more thing," Remus said hesitantly. "Hermione and Ginny will be there."  
  
"What!" Harry said angrily. "I told them...."  
  
"Harry, calm down. They will be in another chamber, no one will see them."  
  
Still angry, he said "But why take the chance!!! Whose brilliant idea was this???"  
  
Remus replied, with the corners of his mouth twitching, "Harry, do you really have to ask? Who would find a Ministry trial too fascinating to resist?"  
  
Harry tried to hold back a snort of laughter. "Hermy, of course."  
  
"Right, apparently she convinced Dumbledore that it was a most fascinating learning experience," he said with a slight grin.  
  
"And the other young lady seems to be not so much fascinated by the thought of the trial, but wanted to be on hand...er...I suppose as some hidden support. She seemed to be under the impression that you needed looking after, and seems to think she's the right one for the job." Remus couldn't help but tease Harry, as much to lessen his nerves, as to try and help getting through to him that he wasn't alone in all this.  
  
Harry grinned, then blushed slightly, but remained quiet. 'Ginny being there is a comforting idea, as long as she remains hidden, that is.'  
  
After a moment Remus continued, "Well to be honest, I'm sure you'll recognize more than one face in the assembly. You know that almost no one in the order is going to miss it, especially the ones at the Ministry already."  
  
"Yeah, I figured," he sighed. "I just hope everyone remembers what I said."  
  
"I told the ones who weren't here your wishes."  
  
Harry nodded, and muttered "Thanks."  
  
At the appropriate time Harry entered the living room fireplace calling out, "Ministry of Magic, visitors entrance." For the first time using the Floo network, there was a pause before he began to spin. For a moment Harry thought of exiting the fire and trying again.  
  
Before he did Remus called out, "There's probably a queue at the other..."  
  
Harry lost the end of the sentence as he began to spin faster and faster. He quickly tucked in his elbows and brought a hand up to keep his glasses in place. After nearly a minute he arrived with a jolt. Luckily he caught himself before making a fool of himself in the Ministry. Grasping Dumbledore's staff in his left hand he made his way out of the gilded fireplace and moved out of the way of other Floo travelers. After a dozen steps or so he paused, looking around for Professor Dumbledore. It was at this time he began to feel all eyes in the room fixing on him. Simultaneously the hall began to grow quieter. This quiet lasted only minutes, then the room was filled with whispers and murmuring, Harry heard his name mentioned several times and more than once in an awed voice. But he was prepared for this. He had decided already that he wasn't going to hang his head anymore; he wasn't going to hide anymore. With that thought firmed in his mind, with his head held high, he walked as confidently as he could to the guard at the desk. He ignored the eyes following his path, concentrating on the dull thud of his staff at every step. As he reached the queue at the security wizard's desk, he looked around the hall. He noticed that the fountain of 'Magical Brethren' had not been replaced yet. The pool stood empty, and Harry fought against the memories that were flooding into his mind. After several moments he stood at the head of the line. Eric the security wizard from his last visit was there again. Without looking up he said "Name, and nature of the visit to the Ministry." His voice sounded sleepy and bored.  
  
"Harry Potter" he said in a strong voice, "I'm here for the Death Eater trial."  
  
"What...Oh...Er...Excuse me, Mr. Potter?" Eric stood up straight now, and gave Harry a deep bow.  
  
Harry, clutching his walking stick only managed a slight one, but he guessed it was polite enough, as Eric's face lit up.  
  
"Ah yes sir, the hearing is down in courtroom nine."  
  
He nodded, "Thank you Eric, I know where it is."  
  
The security wizard's face glowed with pride when Harry used his name. "Someone should be here to escort you down sir; actually she's late already..."  
  
"No problem at all, I'll just wait here, shall I?"  
  
Before Eric could answer a familiar female voice called, "Harry..."  
  
Harry's face showed a shocked smile, but before he could answer, Eric said indignantly, "Miss Johnson, you should know by now to show the proper respect for important visitors here!"  
  
Angelina stopped open mouthed in front of them, seeming at a loss as to how to respond to that.  
  
Harry jumped in then, patting the wizard on the arm, "It's alright Eric; Angelina and I are old friends."  
  
"Oh, oh, yes, Mr. Potter, I apologize for the mix-up." Eric looked a bit embarrassed now.  
  
Harry gave him a small smile and said, "Thank you for all your help Eric, I should head down to the hearing now." "Of course Mr. Potter, thank you sir." Eric bowed deeply again, and received his short one again.  
  
Harry quickly took Angelina's arm and they continued down the hall to the lifts.  
  
"Harry, you really had some effect on Eric. I've never even seen him bow like that, even to the minister." She chuckled, "Is it like that everywhere you go?" She meant it as a joke.  
  
He sighed slightly and said, "Yeah, pretty much."  
  
Her head snapped around to look at him, "You're not serious."  
  
"Unfortunately I am, and it gets worse every year." He sighed again. "It's more than a bit annoying, I can tell you."  
  
"My parents are Muggles, you know. I heard from the other kids at school about you, and read some books that had your name in it, but I had no idea...." She sounded uncomfortable. Angelina got a good look at him by now and said, "Harry, you look terrible."  
  
He had to laugh. "You know I've been hearing that a lot lately. I'm going to start to get a complex."  
  
She laughed nervously, "Harry I didn't mean..."  
  
Harry cut her off, with a sad smile, "I know you didn't. It's ok, really." He squeezed her arm reassuringly. "It's great to see you by the way, I didn't know you were working at the Ministry. I'd have figured you would be off shooting quaffles somewhere."  
  
By this time they entered an empty lift, which started to descend immediately.  
  
"I thought about it. I had a couple of offers to be a reserve chaser, but I figured with all the trouble brewing again" she gave Harry a sideways look, the look said plainly, who I'm telling this too, "I said to myself, it's time to grow up," she continued. "I can't really complain though, being a clerk for the Wizengamot is very interesting. I have to admit this is the first major trial for me and I'm terribly excited." She shot Harry a horrified look.  
  
"Harry I'm sorry, that must've sounded terrible, me being all excited at something that you had to fight for your life to survive."  
  
He said, in a kind voice, "Come now Angelina, we're old friends. If you don't stop your apologizing right now, and if you start treating me like everyone else around here does I may have to hex you." He ended with a smile.  
  
He got a relieved one in return. "Now that we're still alone in this lift, how about giving an old friend a proper hello?" Harry opened his arms and gave her a friendly hug and received a soft kiss on the cheek.  
  
"Now that's better," he said as the lift doors opened.  
  
They continued down the hall arm in arm, staff thudding with their steps, till they reached the steps leading down to the lowest level, and the courtroom in question.  
  
By the time they reached the bottom, Harry was winded; he was clutching the staff with both hand and leaning heavily against the wall. "God, Harry, I didn't realize how hurt you are. Should I get someone to help you?"  
  
Harry shook his head without looking up. After a minute he said, "I'll be alright in a second, just have to catch my breath."  
  
She led him past the courtroom door he knew, passing countless doors, as they made there way around the hall to another door. "This is the observation lounge," she leaned in and whispered. "Ginny and Hermione are in another, on the opposite side."  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"So you just wait in here till they call you. Take care of yourself, Harry, I'll see you soon." She left him with soft hug.  
  
"Bye, Angelina,"  
  
He entered the observation room, the wall opposite the door held a window of impressive size. Beyond it he saw an almost full room courtroom, with the exceptions of the benches for the Wizengamot, which were still empty, as was the chair that usually held the accused.  
  
He took a look around the room; there was a plain wooden table, which held a tea set and a pitcher of iced water, surrounded by several chairs. The only other door led to a small washroom. Harry took the chair facing the observation window, and fixed himself a cup of sweet tea, glad to be off his feet after the trip down the stairs.  
  
'I don't remember any mirrors in that courtroom,' he thought to himself suddenly. 'It would have to be right where the prisoners enter the courtroom.'  
  
"Hmm," he said, thinking to look when it was his turn to go into the court. He started to scan the raised seating of the audience for familiar faces.  
  
It really didn't take long. Almost immediately he saw Rita Skeeter sitting in the front row, Quick Quotes Quill at the ready. A few rows behind and to the left he saw Remus and Professor McGonagall. Another section had velvet ropes around it, and he saw Tonks, Kingsley and Moody sitting together, and Dawlish was a few seats away. So that had to be the Aurors section. People to the extreme right of the window weren't able to be seen through the window. But to the opposite side, way up high, Harry thought he spotted a rather large, rather hairy familiar form. Harry couldn't help it, he smiled.  
  
Behind the raised dais of the judges was a small battered desk. There sat Percy Weasley. Harry's anger rose a bit. He supposed that since Dumbledore was reinstated as the Head of the Wizengamot he would be sitting with Fudge and Bones. So Percy was demoted to sitting behind them, less important during an important trail. The first of many of the trials that would be coming.  
  
At that moment, a pair of doors opened behind the benches. Madam Bones, head of Magical Law Enforcement, entered through one door, followed by Minister Fudge. Through the other, were the members of the Wizengamot lead by Dumbledore, and ended by (to Harry's shock) a goblin. Goblins weren't generally involved in wizarding government. He had to remember to ask Dumbledore or, if he didn't have the chance, Remus about it. All were dressed in dark purple robes with the silver W embroidered on the breast.  
  
Once all were settled a door opened to the left of the mirror, and entered a witch and wizard, wands drawn, and four security trolls, surrounding a man who seemed to be in his mid twenties, with close cropped brown hair and jet black eyes. He was led to the witness chair, his manner light and confident, but changed for a moment when the chains on the chair bound him tightly.  
  
Harry's attention left the Death Eater when he heard Professor Dumbledore's voice. "The accused now being present, we will begin the criminal trial of Mr. Gregory Thorpe. Miss Johnson, please read out the charges."  
  
Angelina Johnson stood up. She looked rather nervous, but spoke in a strong clear voice, "The accused is being charged with the attack and the attempted murder of Harry James Potter." After a breath she continued, "He is further charged with being a Death Eater and with colluding with He-Who- Must-Not-Be-Named."  
  
Immediately mutters erupted from the hall, when another voice spoke up angrily, "I object to calling my client a Death Eater. He has a clean record and comes from a fine old family; there has obviously been a huge misunderstanding."  
  
Harry finally located the man, but couldn't get a clear view of him.  
  
"And you are?" Dumbledore said. All muttering stopped when he spoke.  
  
"I am Igor La Roche; I am the Thorpe Family advocate." The voice now was pompous.  
  
Madam Bones said icily, "You should know by now, Mr. La Roche, that your objections should wait until after the interrogators are introduced, and I warn you now, I've heard of your reputation. None of your usual grandstanding will be tolerated in this courtroom."  
  
"Madam Bones, I strongly object. . ." La Roche said angrily.  
  
Dumbledore spoke up now in a level voice, "Enough, Mr. La Roche."  
  
For the next hour he heard Gregory Thorpe's story, interrupted every so often with questions from Bones, Dumbledore, and Fudge, with La Roche adding comments at what seemed to be planned intervals. He told a fascinating story of him meeting a couple of unknown wizards and a Muggle teenager, completely by accident, one day while strolling through a park. According to this story Harry strolled up and started throwing jinxes and hexes. When asked why he was wearing a mask and long black cloak on a warm summer evening...  
  
"Uh, Potter must've put the mask on me while I was knocked out."  
  
If Harry wasn't so angry at these lies, he would have heard the scoffs and angry muttering of the wizards in attendance.  
  
After several more minutes of questioning, Madam Bones spoke up. "Well, then Mr. Thorne, I'm sure you gave an accurate account of the events." Her voice left little doubt that she didn't believe a word. "We will get another point of view. I ask Harry James Potter to come forward and give testimony."  
  
At these words a door formed in the middle of the window Harry was looking through. He stood slowly, taking a couple of deep breaths to master himself. He thought of Ginny secretly watching him, and then walked determinately through the door, to face one of his attackers.  
  
Harry walked with his head held high and tried to walk as normally as possible, ignoring the muttering his injuries seemed to inspire. When he reached a spot before the assembly of the Wizengamot, he stopped and bowed as deeply as his ribs would allow.  
  
"Good day Madam Bones, Minister, Professor Dumbledore," he said respectfully.  
  
Dumbledore responded first. He gave Harry a very serious look. "Good day Harry, I am pleased to see you, although I would've liked to see you in better physical condition."  
  
"Are you sure you are able to handle this right now, Mr. Potter?" Madam Bones asked in a concerned voice. "Thank you for your concern, Madam Bones," he said, with a bow of thanks. "I've treated my wounds, and I'm mending nicely. I'm sure I look a lot worse then I feel."  
  
"You look terrible, Harry," she said in a low voice.  
  
"Oh, then I feel exactly how I look." He tried to smile, but it was a feeble joke.  
  
"Harry, I will escort you myself to St. Mungo's after the hearing. We will get you set right." Dumbledore said kindly.  
  
Harry bowed his head politely.  
  
It was the Minister's voice that came next. "Very well Mr. Potter, er, Harry, please take a seat and we will continue."  
  
Angelina came forward, and led him to a chair at the far end of the benches, just below the raised seats of the judges. She took his staff, gave him an encouraging smile and returned to her seat at the end of the row.  
  
Harry sat with his legs crossed, elbows on the armrests, fingers tented in front of him. If he could have seen himself he would have seen a confident young wizard, sitting across from his peers. He might have thought he looked a lot like Dumbledore, even if he felt like a first year facing his irate head of house.  
  
After a moment Fudge spoke up "Please, Mr. Potter, will you tell us what happened on the day in question?"  
  
So for the next half an hour Harry spoke first of the owl he received, then of the events of the battle, excluding only his rants and his uncle and cousin's involvement. La Roche tried to object several times, but was cut off repeatedly by Bones and Dumbledore.  
  
Without realizing it Harry spoke with confidence, his presence commanding, but never bragging. By the time he was done, he had impressed most of the wizards in attendance, and had all but convinced the Wizengamot as to the truth of his story.  
  
"Very well, Mr. Potter" said Madam Bones. "We will continue now with the questioning."  
  
"One moment, Amelia," Dumbledore said to her. "Harry has left out some parts of the story, I'm sure it was a simple oversight, but we should have the whole story before we continue."  
  
At these words mumbling raced across the assembly. Harry met Dumbledore's gaze, and held it for long moments, before he shook his head softly and said, "I should know by now not to keep anything from you sir."  
  
"Yes, you should, Harry." His voice was stern, but his eyes were twinkling.  
  
Harry turned to the rest of the Wizengamot he bowed his head, "I apologize for trying to cover up for my own stupidity."  
  
Madam Bones spoke now. "Mr. Potter, this is a serious matter, tell us the bits that are missing, and please explain your reasons for this deception."  
  
Harry nodded solemnly, and said in a clear voice after a small sigh, "The part I left out really has nothing to do with this trial. I left it out because..." he trailed off.  
  
After a moment, he continued, "As I said, I didn't mean to deceive anyone, but I will admit I made more than one foolish mistake on the day in question."  
  
This statement was greeted with silence. He took a deep breath and started, "If I was thinking clearly I would have realized when I got the letter it was more of a trap than I'd known."  
  
The assembly gave him their full attention, "I suppose it starts out with the day my parents were killed. Professor Dumbledore was left responsible for my safety, for he feared reprisals aimed at me from Death Eaters still at large. His decision was to leave me with my mum's sister."  
  
"The reason for this was an ancient and extremely powerful protection spell."  
  
The hall was silent, listening raptly to his words, "It is called the bond of blood...basically since my mother died protecting me, her sister's blood could protect me, and the rest of her blood relatives."  
  
"If I was thinking clearly I would have realized that the Death Eaters couldn't have touched my cousin, since as he's a blood relative, he was as protected as I was from Dark wizards."  
  
"But I don't understand, Mr. Potter," said Bones in a soft voice.  
  
Harry looked down for the first time, and said again, in that shamed voice, "The only way to get around the bond of blood is betrayal by the blood."  
  
Angry muttering filled the hall. After a moment Madam Bones said in a sympathetic voice, "I think we understand Harry, but why didn't you tell us the full story?"  
  
Harry looked her straight in the eye and said, "My aunt and uncle hate magic, she hated my mother for being a witch, she hates everything about us. Even so, she took me in when I had nowhere else to go. They never treated me well or cared all that much about me, but they gave me a place to live, where I was protected."  
  
After a moment he continued, "The only reason I kept that bit quiet was the fact that some of my friends would take offense at this and might want to retaliate in my name." He glanced at where Hagrid was sitting before continuing, "I figured I owe my aunt at least that much protection, after all she took me in when I was one year old and she knew nothing of the plot." Harry felt all eyes on him, he felt the audience's sympathy towards him and anger directed at his family.  
  
La Roche was the first to respond and he did it a cold, mocking tone. "Well Mr. Potter, that is an interesting little fairytale, but your obvious omissions prove that your story is a total fabrication. Your reputation for stories, I should say, is legendary by now."  
  
Harry was about to speak when he saw La Roche's eyes widen as if a thought had occurred to him. He continued, "Furthermore, I intend to prove that Harry Potter used dark magic in his assault of my client and the other wizards in attendance that day."  
  
Gasps and renewed muttered filled the hall, Harry didn't hear it, he was barely containing the rage boiling up inside him. He tried to keep control, but when he spoke it was still in an angry voice, "Well, Mr. La Roche, how do you intend to prove that statement?"  
  
Dumbledore spoke now, "Harry, these are serious charges. Since you are still an underage wizard, it is your right to have this courtroom cleared and have this discussed more privately."  
  
Harry answered almost immediately after thinking, 'If I clear this courtroom most people will think it's a cover-up. No, this has to be settled.'  
  
"No professor, everyone can stay, I have nothing to hide." Both Dumbledore and Madam Bones beamed at him. Obviously they agreed with what he thought.  
  
"Then we may continue."  
  
"Yes, Professor. Mr. La Roche had the gall to accuse me of using dark magic. I'm curious as to how he will prove it." Harry's tone held a bit of mockery in it.  
  
"That's very simple, Potter: my client witnessed it."  
  
"Really," he replied in a level, somewhat curious voice. "Was this Dark magic used before or after I caught him with the tree?"  
  
"Both!" cried out the man in the chained chair. It was the first time he had spoken since Harry had entered, and he was glad to hear a bit of desperation in the voice.  
  
Harry was seething—how dare they accuse him—but he refused to show it. He didn't want to wait for help from the Wizengamot. His voice was level, but his eyes were blazing, as he said, "Really...I'm curious. You see, I was watching from the observation room, and you said in your earlier statement that you were unconscious the whole time. That's how I must've gotten the cloak and mask on you. That is what he said, wasn't it?" He aimed this question at the Wizengamot.  
  
He received nods from most of the witches and wizards, but no other assistance. He was glad of this, he felt that this meant that he should continue on his own. He waited a moment before he returned his gaze back to La Roche and Thorpe, who both looked angry, and, in Thorpe's case, also desperate.  
  
"If I recall correctly, you saw but two spells from me before you were taken out of the duel," Harry said thoughtfully.  
  
"Which spells were they...er...Harry?" This was Fudge, who was treating him with kid gloves since there last meeting three days ago.  
  
"A shield and a dis-Apparation jinx, sir," he said respectfully.  
  
"A dis-Apparation jinx, Harry? All spells in that category are very advanced magic. Well, you already have proved you are a powerful young man." This was Bones.  
  
Harry, not knowing what to say, bowed his head politely.  
  
"Ha!" yelled Thorpe. "Nice how you glossed over the shield—that was no ordinary shield charm! It had to be dark magic, it took a direct attack by three Death Eaters and you came away from the first wave without a scratch."  
  
Harry couldn't help but chuckle, which brought on La Roche's angry voice, in an attempt to cover up what his client said: "How dare you, Mr. Potter, laugh, when serious charges are brought against you?"  
  
Harry's eyes locked onto those of La Roche. "Perhaps you are right sir," he said sneeringly. "Forgive me for not taking the accusations of someone who just named himself a Death Eater too seriously."  
  
He turned to the benches of the Wizengamot and bowed. "Please forgive my rudeness."  
  
This apology was largely drowned out by the uproar of the crowd when they realized Thorpe's inadvertent confession.  
  
La Roche looked livid, Thorpe was staring at Harry with murder in his eyes, and the crowd at large looked from disbelieving to astonished.  
  
After a moment, Dumbledore's thundering voice cut through the noise, "Silence."  
  
Silence was immediate. He continued, "Mr. La Roche, do you wish to continue these accusations against Mr. Potter now that your client has most conveniently implicated himself?"  
  
La Roche gave Harry a hateful look and said, "May I have a moment to discuss this with my client?"  
  
Dumbledore nodded.  
  
It looked as if La Roche wanted to continue to accuse Harry of Dark arts. Perhaps he was a Death Eater or sympathizer himself, and if he was able to get Harry into enough trouble, it would score him some points with Voldemort. He struggled as he had all summer, to think things through, and the more he thought about it though, he came up with another possibility, perhaps getting his client a lesser charge, yes...he had seen Death Eaters making deals to get out of trouble in Dumbledore's Pensieve.  
  
"My client tells me that he lost consciousness when he was first captured, but says that he was awake for most of the battle. Your Honors, he will list the dark spells this boy cast. I hope you take that into consideration when sentencing time comes."  
  
"We shall see, Mr. La Roche," Dumbledore said in a cold voice. "Harry, the first spell you are accused of is some type of dark magic shield."  
  
"That's right, sir, Mr. Dumbledore, sir, it was an invisible shield that stood up to three hard curses at once," Gregory Thorpe said, all self confidence gone now; it seemed he was trying to weasel out of a hard lesson.  
  
"Harry," Dumbledore said, "what can you tell us of this shield? Is it true that it held against three curses simultaneously, and it is also true that it wasn't visible and you came away unscathed? It is not magic I'm immediately familiar with."  
  
"Sir, it is true I was unhurt by the first barrage of spells. The spell is a derivative of the Protego shield charm."  
  
"Mr. Potter," a wizard halfway down the top row of the Wizengamot spoke up. "The Protego shield charm has no derivatives that I am aware of." "Harry, this is Giles Northridge, elder of the Wizengamot and head of the Department of Experimental Charms," said Fudge in an emotionless voice. It was curious how hard he was trying to take no side.  
  
Harry bowed his head to Northridge and said, "Well sir, it's my own design. . . uh, a work in progress is what I mean, sir."  
  
This wizard's face went from neutral to excited. "Really Mr. Potter, your own design you say? Well that's most interesting, oh, we must find time to discuss this. . ." Harry was unsure of what to say, so he settled on another small bow.  
  
Mr. La Roche said in a sneering voice, "How very convenient, sir. Now, how do we prove that it's your own work, and not some Dark Arts you trained?"  
  
Anger was trying to push up to the surface again. A dozen hexes came to mind, each worse then the last. Harry valiantly fought the urges back when he said in a respectful voice to Dumbledore, "Sir, the only proof I can give is my spell models. I really didn't want to share them yet..."  
  
"Perfectly understandable, Harry. You'll find as you get older that most witches and wizards do not like other people's noses in their work," Dumbledore said with a smile in his voice.  
  
Harry made a quick decision—he wanted this done as soon as possible, without leaving anything for the reporters to speculate about. "Sir, if it's really an issue, I would show you and Mr. Northridge my spell models. I mean, if it will clear this matter up."  
  
From the corner of his eye Harry saw approving nods from the judges. Harry took a deep breath. 'Ok, right decision' he thought.  
  
"Thank you, Harry." It was Madam Bones who answered. She gave him a straightforward nod of approval. "If it becomes an issue, two experts will be able to confirm it. Though unless we get some real evidence of Dark Arts, we will not invade your privacy."  
  
Harry bowed to her and waited for the next accusation.  
  
Fudge spoke up now. "Mr. Thorpe, please tell us the rest of these so-called Dark spells."  
  
It seemed that Harry was doing well, considering this was the first time Fudge's voice sounded hard, and towards the guilty for a change.  
  
"Well, Minister, let me see, there was a couple of spells that exploded right in front of him," indicating with his head towards Harry. "I didn't know what their effects to us were," Thorpe answered in a shaky voice  
  
Harry blushed a bit, though with his bruised face it was hard to tell. "Uh, sirs—a couple of spells I tried weren't all that successful, sort of backfired on me." His voice thoroughly embarrassed.  
  
Harry heard soft chuckles from the assembly, and his Headmasters light voice: "It has happened to the best of us. Might I ask what you were attempting to conjure?"  
  
Harry's face went hard. He thought back to that day—it was one of the times he was almost killed. "Actually sir, one of the spells was the reason for my work on my on my own shield spell. In common tongue it's called the Red Shield. My trouble mastering it led to my work."  
  
"How long were you training the spell, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"I only had a couple of weeks of work in, mixed in with my other studies."  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "It is a most difficult and powerful spell, Harry. I understand why you had problems with it."  
  
"And the other spell, Harry?" asked Fudge in a kind voice.  
  
'Yes, he's definitely trying to get on my good side,' Harry thought before answering. "The Tridents of Neptune." He received blank looks from all sides now.  
  
Professor Dumbledore spoke now. "Before we pick every spell apart, were there any others, Mr. Thorpe?"  
  
Harry's quick answers must have had a disheartening effect on Thorpe, because when he spoke next his voice was dejected and forlorn. "There were these bolts of lightning that went all over the place."  
  
"The Fury of Zeus," Harry said, then in a lower but still audible voice, "Not that it did me any good, missed completely."  
  
"Uh, there were these bolts of black fire...."  
  
"The Spears of Mars."  
  
Gregory Thorpe sounded absolutely miserable now. "He threw a hammer of air, threw one of the others twenty-five or thirty feet."  
  
'The Hammer of Thor,' he thought to himself. 'Only half as effective as it should have been.'ccuse him, n room, efore continueing,  
  
When Thorpe said nothing, Dumbledore spoke again. "Was there anything else, Mr. Thorpe?"  
  
After a few moments, Thorpe said in relief, "Oh, yes, I almost forgot—he threw a ball of bright red fire from his open hand."  
  
Gasps and muttering renewed at the news of wandless magic, even more so at that it was duel-worthy wandless magic.  
  
Harry looked over to Dumbledore, Fudge, and Bones, and said, "I'm sorry, but the spell has no name that I know of. I have my own name for it but there was no official title." Harry continued, "I was able to acquire some copies of some very old and rare texts, and that's where I learned it from."  
  
"You see?" roared La Roche. "This foolish boy finds some black arts in some book and then conveniently forgets what it's called to avoid repercussions."  
  
"Tell me, boy, how do you know that this spell isn't part of the dark arts?" La Roche said in a scathing voice.  
  
Harry answered icily, his eyes blazing. "First of all, my name is Harry Potter, not boy, and you will address me as Mr. Potter. Second of all, you have the gall to accuse me of Dark Arts when your own client is an admitted Death Eater." After a quick moment's thought Harry knew what he wanted to say. "You seem awfully anxious to prove me guilty, even though it has no bearing on the outcome of your own case. I have to wonder, though, if your motivations come from a different source."  
  
"What rubbish are you talking about?" replied La Roche in an odd sort of nervous voice.  
  
"Well, Mr. La Roche, since you have nothing to gain personally for prosecuting me, my own conclusion would be that either you are a sympathizer or a member...."  
  
The only sound was the scratching of the reporters' quills. La Roche began to sputter indignantly. "How DARE...."  
  
Harry heard a recognizable soft chuckle from the three prosecutors. But his eyes never left the advocates.  
  
Harry cut him off. With an evil grin he said, "Might I have a look at your left forearm, sir?"  
  
La Roche froze where he stood. Eyes going slightly wide, he spoke in a deadly voice: "Now see here boy, er, Mr. Potter, how very nice of you to try to throw suspicion off of yourself. But we were talking about you using Dark Arts against other wizards."  
  
Harry glanced up at the section of Aurors and saw Moody nodding approvingly, as well as several others looking hard at La Roche.  
  
Harry had had enough, though; he spoke up in a loud commanding voice. "You dare accuse Merlin himself of creating dark magic?"  
  
La Roche looked like he had been slapped in the face, but Dumbledore spoke first. "Harry, you mean to say that this magic, this ball of fire, was the work of Merlin?"  
  
Harry replied respectfully. "Yes, sir, I call it Merlin's Fire. As I said I was able to acquire some copies of some of his work. A very small portion, though quite fascinating. I think it could take me a year just to get through the dozen or so parchments I have. And years more, I think, to comprehend it all."  
  
Excited murmuring raced through the entire hall.  
  
It was Mr. Northridge who spoke next. "Mr. Potter, now I mean no disrespect, but the Ministry has most of Merlin's collective works, and they are protected by his own spells so that they cannot be read by anyone but himself. Are you saying that your copies are easily read?" His voice was excited, but he tried hard to keep it level.  
  
"No, sirs, not at all. The spells placed on each page are somehow transferred from the old parchment to the new. From what I've seen, each paged is layered with spells, and you have to get the right combination of counter-curses to able to read them. Oh, and each page seems to have a different spell sequence."  
  
"Very good, Mr. Potter," Giles Northridge smiled at him. "Only someone who has tried to work with these pages would know about that. But I must say, I'm astounded that you were able to break through even one of these pages. We here at the Ministry have been trying for years, and we have only unsealed a handful. I wonder, Mr. Potter, if you would be agreeable in the future for a meeting, say at Hogwarts, so I can we can discuss this fully."  
  
"It would be an honor, Mr. Northridge, but not to give you false hope at seeing these pages sir. Not that I'm unwilling to share my findings." Harry saw the disappointed face looking at him. "You see sir, from what I've learned so far in my limited work, Merlin somehow constructed the spelled pages to react differently to each witch or wizard that tried to unlock them. I tried to copy the unsealed text, but was unable to; it seems that the spells are protected against that also. I had hoped to discuss it with professor Dumbledore when we had the chance."  
  
"Giles, Harry, I must agree that this is a most interesting discussion, one to which I would be very interested in discussing fully, but we must finish with the business of the day."  
  
Harry blushed slightly and said, "Of course, Professor, lately I seem to get easily caught up in my work."  
  
He got a twinkle-eyed smile in return. Dumbledore continued, "Most understandable, Harry, you'll find that most of the wizards up here find it the same way." Harry smiled in return. "But we have the matter of these other spells to contend with."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Now I personally don't have any knowledge of these spells you named. Could you give up a little information on them?" He looked over to the rest of the Wizengamot. "Unless one of my esteemed colleagues has some knowledge of them."  
  
There was a moment of silence. "I know the spells, Albus." This came from a very old wizard, who at first glance seemed to show the same vitality as Dumbledore, but minus the long hair and beard.  
  
"Ah...Harry this is Colin Thatcher, Wizengamot Elder, Historian and former head of the Aurors."  
  
Harry bowed to the man. "It's an honor, sir. I've read your book, I found it very interesting and most informative."  
  
Thatcher chuckled. "You are one of the few Harry, but it seems my book coincides nicely with the spells I heard about today."  
  
"What do you mean, Colin?" Fudge asked politely.  
  
"Mr. Potter here has been studying the ancient Aurors. He used no Dark magic that I have heard...no, quite the opposite." His eyes turned back to Harry. "Ancient and powerful magic, Mr. Potter, not many people even remember it now, and even less attempt to use magic that powerful. Though I can see why you would choose this course of study, you have my respect."  
  
Harry bowed as deeply as he could, as Thatcher continued, "You must have had people collecting books for you, Mr. Potter. From what I've heard so far, you would have a rather interesting collection. I wonder though, if you found all that you were looking for?"  
  
Harry looked him straight in the eye and said, "No sir, some witches and wizards were unwilling to give up their books at any price. But I will continue to search."  
  
Thatcher's eyes never left his, but he gave Harry an almost imperceptible nod.  
  
After a moment Dumbledore said towards the Wizengamot, "I assume this concludes the inquiry into Mr. Potter alleged Dark Magic use. If there are no other objections I will dismiss him now."  
  
"I'd like to ask Mr. Potter a question, if I might, Albus."  
  
To Harry's surprise it was the only goblin member of the Wizengamot.  
  
Dumbledore nodded politely and said, "Harry, this is Antak Hilldern, elder of the Goblin High Government and the newest member of the Wizengamot."  
  
Harry turned his gaze to the goblin, bowed twice very quickly and said in perfect Gobbledygook the proper greeting to a goblin of his standing: "Greetings honored elder, may your days bring you fortune, and your nights bring you peace." Harry was unsure of his accent, as this was after all the first time he had spoken the goblin language out loud.  
  
Antak's yellow eyes opened wide with surprise for a moment, as did most of the Wizengomot's that Harry could see, but the goblin quickly recovered and replied in kind, "May your days find you peace and your nights find you victory, young wizard." And he gave Harry the single bow that was the polite response.  
  
Harry smiled inwardly, but showed no outward sign that he was pleased. The reply he received was a great compliment from goblin to wizard, and he didn't want to mess up now.  
  
Antak spoke in English now. "Mr. Potter, from what I've heard today, you've been training yourself for battle."  
  
Harry nodded, but said nothing, waiting for the goblin's next statement. His eyes never left Antak's.  
  
"It seems to me that you expected this attack, or something like it. May I ask why that is, Mr. Potter?"  
  
Harry was silent for a minute, carefully choosing his words. "I had hoped that I would have more time to prepare for my next encounter with the Death Eaters, but yes, I did know they would come for me sooner or later, sir."  
  
He paused again and then continued, "There are many reasons for them wanting me out of the way. I suppose the first reason would be the attack when I was a year old, ruining all their plans. Not to mention this habit I have that simply infuriates Voldemort."  
  
Gasps raced across the assembly at the Dark Lord's name.  
  
"May I ask what that habit is, Mr. Potter?" Hilldern's voice had a hint of curiosity in it.  
  
"Oh, I have a habit of figuring out his plans and putting my foot in it. That and the fact that I keep escaping him really annoys him." Harry completed this with a humorless chuckle. "And I guess what I told Bellatrix the first time I met her is as good reason as any for the attack a couple of days ago."  
  
"Harry," Dumbledore said curiously, "what did you say to her?"  
  
"What? Oh, I told her that Voldemort is a half blood. She didn't take too well to me saying that."  
  
The whole of the Wizengamot was staring open-mouthed at him.  
  
Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "Seemed like a good idea at the time...got her so angry she made a mistake...."  
  
After several moments of shocked silence throughout the courtroom, Albus Dumbledore spoke again. "Harry, you and I need to have a long talk one of these days." He sighed and said, "If there are no other questions for Harry, I will excuse him."  
  
He received nods from most members. "Harry, on behalf of the Wizengamot, thank you for your time and patience with the false accusations. If you will, please return to the observation room. We will take a short recess before the sentencing, and then I shall escort you to St. Mungo's." He looked over to Angelina. "Ms. Johnson, would you please escort Mr. Potter?"  
  
In the time it took Angelina to walk over to him, Harry had managed to get to his feet. He tried to look graceful in front of the assembly, but merely achieved in not looking like a total cripple. Angelina passed him the staff, and Harry first bowed to Bones, Dumbledore, and Fudge, then to the rest of the Wizengamot, and hobbled out of the courtroom, Angelina at his side.  
  
His nerves had been keeping his mind and body up, but as they walked across to the door to the observation chamber it seemed like a great weight had grown atop his shoulders. As they reached it, Harry was barely able to shuffle through. He made it to the chair only with Angelina's help. He plopped down, and began to shiver—exhaustion, nerves, and grief taking their long overdue toll on him. Angelina, noticing his state, quickly tapped the teapot with her wand. Steam again rose from the spout. She fixed him a cup, and took the chair next to him.  
  
"You alright Harry?" she asked with concern.  
  
"Yeah, just tired, didn't realize how much this can take out of you." Exhaustion was evident in his voice. "Not to mention putting it on top of the past few days."  
  
He gave her a small smile and said, "I think after St. Mungo's, I'll sleep for a couple of days."  
  
As Harry sipped his tea she said with a smile and a bit of awe, "I must tell you, you were brilliant out there. You really were. You impressed a lot of people today. I think if it was me I'd be too nervous to speak, and when that bastard accused you of using Dark magic..."  
  
"Yeah, I think the Aurors should take a hard look into this La Roche, something very, uh, slimy about that man."  
  
"Did you really tell Bellatrix Lestrange that Vo...Vo...that he is a half blood?"  
  
"Yeah, like I said it was a good idea at the time. You can ask Hermione or Ginny for details if you like, they were both there. I'm sorry, just not up to telling the story right now."  
  
She nodded and thankfully didn't ask him any more.  
  
They sat in silence for some time, sipping tea, watching for the return of the Wizengamot. When they returned Angelina jumped up and hurried out of the door. Dumbledore passed out the sentence of the confirmed Death Eater, which was ten to fifteen years in Azkaban.  
  
Harry wasn't sure how he felt about it. After a few moments he found he didn't care all that much. There were only three he really cared about, three he wanted dead. The rest...let the Ministry deal with the rest. One was his job, and the other two...a debt had to be paid....  
  
After a short while, everyone began to leave the courtroom. The reporters were the last, trying to get interviews with the members of the Wizengamot. Shortly after that, Harry saw Dumbledore and Madam Bones walking over to the door. His Headmaster held it open for Madam Bones and followed her into the room.  
  
Harry was struggling to his feet as she entered. She tried to stop him, but he hoped to get to the hospital, and then to his bed as quickly as possible.  
  
The head of Magical Law Enforcement spoke first; she gave him a kind, friendly smile and said, "Harry, I want you to know that you showed a lot of people something in that courtroom today. With things beginning anew, as they did before you were born, we will need more young people like you." Harry was unsure what to say. He didn't think he did all that much in the courtroom, but gave her a polite bow of thanks.  
  
She continued, "Albus told me about your hiding out on your own, and I must say I'm none too pleased with the idea, but he told me your reasons, and I do understand and you have my respect. To make it a bit easier on you I have this for you."  
  
She handed over a folded piece of parchment. "This is a full exemption from the underage wizarding laws. We know now that you are a responsible young man, and we know you'll handle this responsibility admirably."  
  
"Thank you, Madam Bones, I don't know how to express my gratitude."  
  
She smiled warmly at him. "Call it payment for the classes you were teaching under that idiot woman Umbridge's nose." She chuckled. "My Susan told me what an excellent teacher you were. And she stands firm that she wouldn't have done nearly as well as she did on her O.W.L.'s, had it not been for you."  
  
Harry blushed. "I...well, she was an excellent student, she nearly had a corporeal Patronus, when the lessons had to stop...." Harry trailed off.  
  
She grinned at him. "I know, she told me, and I feel more confident that she will be able to defend herself should the need arise. Well, enough of this jabbering. Albus, you need to get the boy to St. Mungo's. Harry, it had been a pleasure."  
  
"Mine also, thank you again." He said with a warm smile.  
  
That left Harry and Dumbledore alone in the room. Dumbledore was giving him his usual piercing gaze, which Harry returned, trying to discern his Headmaster's thoughts.  
  
"Harry," he started quietly, "before we head to the hospital I want to tell you how very proud I am of you. Each time I think I couldn't be prouder, you go and outdo yourself." Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling for a moment before he continued, "Furthermore, I can say without any doubt, your parents and Sirius would be as well."  
  
Harry averted his eyes at this. He said nothing, waiting for his Headmaster to continue.  
  
"In the troubled times we are entering into we will need all the allies we can gather. Today you made yourself some powerful allies. You showed yourself not only as a powerful young wizard, but as a warrior and a scholar."  
  
Harry did not know what to say to this. His mind was racing. Everyone was praising him, but did he really do all that much today? He wasn't so sure.  
  
After a moment of silence, he continued, with a smile twitching his long beard, "I also suspect will we be receiving many visitors at Hogwarts this year. A great many of my old friends and colleagues will be consulting you, as well as myself, with their work."  
  
Harry showed a small smile that faded quickly. "Sir, everyone is making a big deal about my magical accomplishments; I really didn't do all that much, no where near what I was hoping to accomplish this summer."  
  
Dumbledore chuckled at this as he led Harry from the room. "My dear young wizard, I myself decoded one of Merlin's pages that Giles told you about. It took me nearly a year."  
  
Dumbledore laughed harder at Harry's openmouthed expression, and they headed off to St. Mungo's. 


	5. The invitation

Chapter Five: The Invitation  
  
Harry Potter lay in his bed; actually he lay in Sirius's bed, trying desperately to get some long overdue sleep. His body was oh-so-tired—bone- weary, actually—but his mind was racing. He couldn't help but recount the day's events, starting with the ministry hearing, the accusations against him and his apparently 'brilliant' performance in his defense. Dumbledore had said that he had gained allies today, and made people sit up and take notice.  
  
Harry just didn't see it, what did he do that was so special. 'Maybe I should finally use the extremely expensive Pensieve I bought.'  
  
His thoughts hung on that thread for a time. He had stored every battle he had ever been in or witnessed except for the last in the Pensieve. His plan was to study each conflict and see what he could have done differently, such as if there had been a chance to save Cedric, or to save Sirius. He was actually very frightened of the prospect of seeing the last two. Harry knew he would do this soon, but he was dreading it. Tomorrow he would put the trial in it, and examine it as an observer. Maybe then he could see what all the fuss was about.  
  
His mind drifted again to today's trip to St. Mungo's...  
  
Harry exited a large plain fireplace at the main entrance to the wizarding hospital in time to see his headmaster Apparate right in front of him. And a lucky thing it was, as Harry was so tired he lost his balance and was heading for a nasty spill when Dumbledore's wiry arm caught him. Walking to the reception desk was a very similar experience to his earlier one at the Ministry. Perhaps a bit more extreme—the combination of a battered and bruised Harry Potter and the commanding presence of Albus Dumbledore made the quiet quieter and amplified the muttering and expressions of awe.  
  
They arrived at the desk together, Dumbledore with a firm grip on Harry's upper arm. The same blonde witch sat behind the counter as the last time Harry was here, to visit Mr. Weasley. Her back was to them as she chatted away with the portrait of former healer and former Hogwarts Headmistress Dilys Derwent.  
  
The portrait's eyes went wide when she saw Harry, who gave her a small smile and a slight wave, then shifted her gaze to Dumbledore and gave him a reproachful look.  
  
Harry leaned over to his headmaster and whispered, "Looks like Dilys is going to give you an earful when she gets you alone."  
  
Dumbledore chuckled softly and leaned close to reply in a whisper, "Yes, the portraits in my office are rather fond of you Harry, even after your last visit there. I led Dilys to believe that you were merely scratched up a bit." He sighed, then continued, "Yes, I will be hearing all about this later."  
  
At this moment the medi-nurse behind the counter turned around and gasped at the pair in front of her. She spoke a little breathlessly. "Oh, excuse me, Professor Dumbledore, sir, and—" She gasped. "Harry Potter, oh my...."  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "Ms. Patience, how good to see you again, dear. I wonder if Healer Pomfrey is available this late in the day?"  
  
"Oh, uh, yes sir, I will send someone to see. If you and Mr. Potter would like, you can wait on the fourth floor, the benches in the hall are quite comfortable, and that is the level which Healer Pomfrey usually is working." Harry looked up at the floor guide and saw that the fourth floor was for spell damage. That was the level of highest care. He really didn't think he needed that much help, but if that was where Healer Pomfrey was... "Sir," Harry said softly as they walked towards the lift, "is Healer Pomfrey...."  
  
"Yes, Harry, during the summer holidays Madam Pomfrey is known as Healer Pomfrey; she works here and takes seminars on new magical medical processes. She really doesn't get all that much practice during the school year," he chuckled. "With the exception of you, of course."  
  
Harry smiled sadly. 'Yes, how many times was I nearly killed...' he thought.  
  
As they walked to the lift Harry chanced a look back to see everyone in the reception area staring at them. He couldn't suppress a small sigh. Once up on the fourth floor, Harry sat himself down on the bench with a soft groan. They sat in silence for several minutes when a very attractive young witch came hurrying up to them.  
  
"Please excuse me for taking so long, Professor Dumbledore. I am Trainee Healer Margaret Thomas. I just left Healer Pomfrey, she is with a patient right now. A very serious case actually, she will need about an hour before she can see Mr. Potter." She glanced at Harry and blushed slightly. "She said she will understand if you'd like to see another Healer, but hopes that you'll wait for her."  
  
"Well, Harry, it is up to you," said his Headmaster kindly.  
  
Harry replied to the young, dark haired, dark eyed witch with his sad smile still in place. "An hour is fine. I'll wait for Madam, er, Healer Pomfrey. She's put me back together so many times she could probably do in blind- folded by now." He tried for humor again today, and failed yet again.  
  
The Trainee Healer gave him an odd sad smile and nodded. "Fine, Mr. Potter, we will be back as soon as we can." She hurried back down the hall from where she came.  
  
"Since we have a bit of a wait, I will drop in on a couple of colleagues, and check on Mundungus—that is, if you don't mind, Harry?"  
  
"No sir, I don't mind, please give him my, er, best wishes." Harry was actually glad of it. He was so tired now, he really didn't want to talk, he just wanted to sit quietly for a while.  
  
As his headmaster strode away, Harry absently picked up an issue of the Daily Prophet someone had left. He noticed it was the one with the headline, Potter Attacked!!! Harry sighed again, and forced himself to read it through. He hadn't read this article yet, he had been avoiding it, but he mused, 'Should keep an eye on what they are saying about me.' He finished the article quickly, and was slightly surprised. It was very well written and concise, without Rita's usual fabrications and meandering.  
  
Harry closed his eyes, and leaned his head back to the wall. He began an exercise he learned this summer. He was opening his mind, letting it drift around him. He was training his mind and magic as another sense. Something like a second sight. Letting his mind open up this way, and training his magical seeing sense it would get stronger. Eventually he wouldn't need this trance-like state to sense most of what was around him. Though it would take him years to get to that strength level. After several moments his mind began to see the magic going on all around him. There were the very strong permanent charms and wards that killed germs and airborne disease throughout the hospital. He felt and saw remnants of curses and healing magics coming from all around him. Magic was very pretty observed in this way, but the openness in his mind also transmitted the fear and hurt all around him as well. Practicing this here may not have been the best idea, as there was far too much sensory input. He was still very new at this skill and he was beginning to be overwhelmed. When he trained at the Dursley's he was in his trunk, where there was magic present, but nowhere as at the same level as here.  
  
Harry was about to break off his trance-like state when he felt a soul in anguish. He had never felt anything like this; he felt his heart breaking and did not know the reason. He began to focus his mind, a procedure he had read about, but never tried before. Blocking out all other information, one step at a time, as he had read about, he began to search for this pain. After several minutes, he felt terror and sadness barely contained. The person was close, very close; he felt tears forming beneath his closed lids. The person was in the room right behind him. Something welled up inside him; he had to help this tortured soul.  
  
Harry broke the trance, standing up much too quickly. With a groan he nearly fell back onto the bench. Clutching the staff with both hands he regained his composure. Quickly wiping the back of his hand across his eyes, he made his way to the door. He paused as he reached it, and heard through the door, soft crying and occasional whimpering. He knocked softly, hearing a slight yelp. Slowly opening the door he saw a tiny young girl, curled up at the head of the bed, cowering away from him behind a pillow.  
  
Harry felt his heart tearing out as he realized he was scaring her even more. He spoke softly, "I'm sorry little one; I didn't mean to frighten you. I heard you crying and I wanted to see if you needed any help." The little girl, who had the face of an angel, Harry thought, was looking wide-eyed at him but still said nothing. She was tiny, very thin and pale, with long sandy hair.  
  
Harry continued in his quiet comforting voice, "Are you in pain? Would you like me to get a healer for you?"  
  
The little angel looked even more frightened and quickly shook her head, but said nothing. So she was terrified by the healers, and perhaps a bit by his bruised face. 'I wonder why she's here all by herself?'  
  
"I have some time before my Healer is ready, would you like some company till then?"  
  
She still looked terribly frightened, but the prospect of not being alone seemed to be something she couldn't easily refuse.  
  
He had to do something...a joke maybe...he wasn't in much of a joking mood, though...she's frightened of my face. . . the bruises. . . "I hope my face doesn't scare you too much," he said in a mock serious voice. "Trust me, I'm much uglier when I'm not all purple-y."  
  
He found a way, the proof? Soft giggling coming from behind the big, fluffy, white, pillow, but she was still hiding behind it. He needed something more. He had no clue as to what to do—and then it came to him, so obvious that he felt stupid. She was a wizarding child, she had grown up with stories of. . .  
  
"By the way, little one, my name is Harry. Harry Potter."  
  
The little angel gasped and the pillow came down from before her. She was looking at him intently now, eyes wide, searching his face. Harry remembered the long hair that obscured his forehead. He tossed his head, the hair flipping back.  
  
"Wow," said an awestruck little voice.  
  
'Well maybe this bloody scar is good for something,' he thought. Harry smiled at the young girl and said in a friendly voice, "Well, you never answered me, would you care for some company?"  
  
All he got in return was a vigorous nod. Her face still held that awestruck look. His staff clunked as he made his way over to a chair near the bed. Suppressing a groan he sat slowly in it. Now for the next task, breaking away the awe. "So little one, you still haven't told me your name." He paused, then. "Or is that why you are here in St. Mungo's. Cat got your tongue?" Harry's eyes were twinkling, his mouth smiling gently.  
  
Another giggle, then Harry soon learned that her name was Annabelle. She was ten years old, and she had a six year old brother. Her mother had gone off to pick him up from the sitters. Harry told her all about school, and told her that he was not the 'greatest wizard' in the world. He explained very patiently that the world's greatest wizard was the Professor Dumbledore. She didn't look convinced, though. Harry assured her the first time she saw him she would know it too. Annabelle told him she was on the list to be a first year at Hogwarts next September, but she was doubtful she would be able to attend. Harry was shocked when Annabelle casually explained that she had been sick for most of her young life. Harry's heart was breaking as this tiny little angel with such a sweet voice spoke so matter-of-factly of her illness, which no healer could seem to classify. She spoke of endless test and scans, of potions that burned her mouth and throat, of 'scary people' always poking and prodding her. Her parents owned a wizarding apothecary and were fairly well off, but by no means wealthy. They spent most of their money bringing in healers from around the world to no avail. They spoke for nearly half an hour, with her doing most of the talking. It seemed that Annabelle was warned that this trip to St. Mungo's was to be a longer one, for supposedly more extensive tests. Her tone said she was frightened; she seemed to think she wasn't ever going to leave this place. Alive anyway.  
  
Harry didn't like the way this conversation was progressing. He didn't like what he was feeling from this girl—she was bright and sharp, and the bravery that led her up to now was inspiring to him. Now, though, her strength seemed to be waning. Fear was beginning to assert itself. He spoke in a commanding voice.  
  
"Listen to me little one." His tone softened a bit when he saw to his chagrin that she was a bit too startled. "You must remember one thing: you must never stop fighting. If we ever give up then all is lost." He smiled gently at her.  
  
She looked at him wide-eyed, like she wanted to believe, wanted to hope  
  
"We've been chatting all this time, little one, haven't you wondered what happened to my face?" he said.  
  
She didn't look up at him. He could sense she wanted to, but couldn't seem to ask. "Would you like me to tell you?"  
  
She nodded, but still didn't look at him.  
  
He told her a brief story of his cousin's abduction, with a brief description of the duel. He made sure to tell of his fear, and how he kept going until the Aurors showed up to help. When he was done her eyes were wide, staring at him open-mouthed. 'Hope I didn't frighten her. I tried hard not to.' Harry really didn't have much experience with children, besides when he was one. Come to think of it though, much of the memories of him being the same age as she, that was, pre-wizard and pre-Hogwarts were less easy to remember as time went by.  
  
He asked her in the same quiet voice, "Do you understand why I told you this story, Annabelle?"  
  
Her face was still a mask of awe. She responded breathlessly, "You never gave up, they wanted to hurt you, and you never stopped fighting, no matter how ascared you were."  
  
He smiled broadly at her, eyes twinkling like twin emeralds. "Always remember, little one..." He never finished that thought as he heard a sound from the open doorway.  
  
A woman's voice, a combination of a shriek of anger, mixed with despair said, "What are you doing in my daughter's room?" she demanded. "What kind of place is this, where any hooligan can just sit here alone with my defenseless baby?" There were tears in the voice now; she was clutching the little boy to her side with desperation.  
  
Harry rose from the chair to try to explain to this woman, who seemed exhausted and very much on edge—perhaps rightly so with the way he looked. He never got the chance to speak, though.  
  
Annabelle's voice, strong and loud for the first time since he got there, spoke up now. "Momma, stop it, Harry's not going to hurt me. He's my friend and he's has been keeping me company." She was up on her knees now, pillow forgotten, color returning to her pale cheeks.  
  
The girl's mother was shocked, and more than pleased at the life her daughter was showing. Harry guessed it had been quite some time since she displayed this side of herself.  
  
Harry spoke now. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I never meant to cause anyone any bother, Mrs. Uh...."  
  
"Perhaps I should introduce myself first," he spoke quickly. "I apologize again ma'am." He offered his hand. "I'm Harry Potter, please excuse my appearance. I'm obviously still waiting for my healer." He ended with a small grin.  
  
She looked startled at his name, and the little boy's mouth was hanging open. She was staring at him without saying a word. He lifted the front of his hair to show the well-known proof. "Well, oh dear. . . I'm sorry Mr. Potter, I mean, I didn't recognize. . ."  
  
Harry smiled, "Please, call me Harry, and it is me who should apologize again. I understand your anxiety. Annabelle and I were having a lovely chat. We were discussing Hogwarts, and she's most excited to be going." He smiled at the little angel, who returned the smile. "Right, little one?"  
  
"Yes, Momma, Harry was telling me all about it. He told me the Headmaster is the greatest wizard in the world, not him. I'm not sure if I should believe it, though."  
  
Apparently Annabelle's mum was very distressed at her daughter's loss of hope, and this new light was bringing tears to her eyes. With an emotion- strained voice she said, "It's true, love. Dumbledore is a great man and a great wizard."  
  
Annabelle's eyes widened at the doorway, Harry's eyes followed her gaze. There, framed in the doorway, stood the venerable headmaster Albus Dumbledore.  
  
Eyes twinkling and beard twitching, he said with laughter in his voice, "Harry, I wish you wouldn't build me up so to incoming students. It's bad enough that they can't talk to me without stuttering till the fifth year even without your help."  
  
Harry chuckled.  
  
Annabelle's mother whirled around, and cried in delight, "Professor Dumbledore! Oh, how wonderful to see you."  
  
Dumbledore bowed slightly and took her hand. "It has been far too long, Miss Perrin, although I'm not certain that title is accurate any longer."  
  
The formerly distraught woman was now smiling broadly. "No sir, actually it's Mrs. Masters now."  
  
"Ahh. Masters as in Eric Masters, former Hogwarts prefect and Quidditch captain of Ravenclaw?"  
  
"The very one. Oh my, this is an exciting day, I'm all out of breath, seeing you and Harry Potter within moments...." She really did sound breathless.  
  
Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes, we are quite the pair, but alas Harry and I must take our leave. The healer is ready for him, and I'm sure she is most anxious to get her hands on her favorite patient," he said, with a smile at Harry.  
  
"Well, little one, it has been great meeting you..." Harry began, but paused as he saw her face fall. A quick thought came to him. "Mrs. Masters, would you mind terribly if I wrote to Annabelle? You know I have to keep her up on all the gossip at school so she's properly prepared for next year." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Annabelle's face light up again, and her mother was positively beaming at him.  
  
"Oh, of course Harry, I wouldn't mind at all," she said enthusiastically. It was obvious she hoped that letters from him could keep her little girl's spirits up.  
  
"Well then, Annabelle, I'll be talking with you soon. Oh, when you see a big beautiful snowy white owl coming, that would be my Hedwig. You'll be sure to tell her how pretty she is, ok?"  
  
She smiled and nodded at him, and he and Dumbledore bowed themselves out of the room.  
  
Harry and his Headmaster were halfway down the hall when Dumbledore spoke. "That was a very nice thing you did in there with that child, Harry. I've heard about her, she's been sick for quite some time."  
  
Harry replied sadly, "Well I figured maybe my name and my scar could actually do something besides get me into trouble. Is it true they really don't know what's wrong with her?"  
  
Dumbledore nodded somberly, "Might I ask how you found yourself at that girl's bedside?"  
  
Harry was quiet for a moment. He didn't want to discuss most of his studies, but this, he could talk about. It was something he could get advice about. He spoke softly, almost shyly. "I've been training my 'Sensing' skills. I was in a slight trance, bad idea to do it here though. Too much input. I was about to break off when I felt overwhelming sadness and fear." He paused and finished, "I had to do something."  
  
They had paused in the middle of the hall, Dumbledore giving Harry the customary piecing gaze. Dumbledore was a powerful wizard, his sensing skill beyond measure—he saw a young man in front of him, trying to cope with so much, trying to live up to the burden he himself placed on him at the time Harry was at his lowest. He decided not to pry too much into Harry's work; he hoped to get him to come out on his own. Perhaps this was the start.  
  
He nodded softly and said, "When you return to school, try walking in the halls early in the morning, before everyone is awake. There will be a lot of sensory input, but without people awake you should be able to handle it. As you know, the school is laced throughout with spells, and it looks quite lovely to the mind's eye." He gave Harry a small smile and continued, "If you wanted to ask me about anything you see I'm sure we could find time for it."  
  
Harry nodded gratefully, and they continued down to the last room in the hall.  
  
As they reached the last doorway at the end of the hall Harry heard a stern voice calling out, "Harry Potter, can't I let you out of my sight for even the summer holidays?"  
  
Harry heard the concern behind the stern voice, and couldn't help but grin. He replied, "Sorry Madam, er, I mean Healer Pomfrey; the headmaster told me your summer holidays were a bit dull, so I thought I'd send you a little business." She snorted in reply as she pulled him into the examination room. "As if the Death Eater you sent wasn't enough."  
  
Poppy Pomfrey turned her attention to Dumbledore. "Headmaster, if you'll excuse us for a short while...."  
  
"But of course Poppy, if you can, just send him to Jenna's office when you are finished. That is where I shall wait." Harry was led by the arm to a bed, and said to the trainee he had met in the hall, the Healer saying, "Margaret, may I introduce my best customer at school. This is Harry Potter. Harry, this is Margaret, a very talented trainee healer."  
  
Margaret Thomson blushed slightly at the compliment. "Yes, Poppy, we met in the hall, though I didn't know he was your best customer," she said, trying to hide amusement or confusion.  
  
Harry spoke now. "I'm not sure if being your best customer is a compliment or a criticism," he said with a sly voice. He truly liked this woman. She was always kind to Harry throughout his many stays under her care.  
  
She 'hrmffed' before saying with a sigh, "Oh it's a little of both, Harry. By the way you are moving I can see it is more than your face that is injured. Now why don't you take off your robes and we shall see what you've done to yourself this time."  
  
Harry blushed slightly. He hesitated, 'after all," he thought, 'There's a really pretty young woman that he didn't standing near him,' he finally said, "Uh, I might need some help with that. . ."  
  
She looked at him curiously. One eyebrow rose. "Why is that, Harry?"  
  
"Uh, I have at least two broken ribs, ma'am," he said quietly.  
  
"Harry, do you mean to tell me you've been walking around with broken ribs for days!" she said very loudly.  
  
"I took care of them best I could, and they don't hurt all that much if I don't move too much," he said defensively.  
  
She sighed loudly now, "Harry, with broken ribs there is always the serious chance of internal bleeding."  
  
"I know, and I check twice a day to make sure there isn't any."  
  
She looked at him again curiously, a smile twitching the corners of her mouth. "I did not realize you had any healer's talent, Harry."  
  
"As you said, I am your best customer, and since I'm away from school I thought I'd better learn to do some things myself."  
  
She gave him a hesitant, but approving nod, but it was Margaret who spoke. "Is that what the purple scabs are? I've never seen anything like that, and I'm sure I've not read anything about it either."  
  
Healer Pomfrey answered before he could. "Yes, Margaret, a very old form of magical first aid, very effective on smaller wounds." She turned to Harry and said, "You are lucky there weren't any deep wounds. I don't think you'd be able to close them with this technique."  
  
"No, Madame Pomfrey, I know I wouldn't be able to. Falcore closed the most serious ones."  
  
"Falcore, Harry?" She paused and said, "I'm sorry, I know you're dealing with matters of your own safety, you don't need to tell me who he is."  
  
Harry smiled softly and replied, "In this case, it's quite alright. Falcore is my phoenix."  
  
Both women gasped, eyes going wide. They both seemed to know the implications of having a phoenix. Or was it just that they knew about the legendary healing powers if this rare magical creature?  
  
After several moments of thoughtful silence the Healer in charge spoke. "Margaret, please help Harry off with his robes."  
  
Harry was trying desperately not to blush. Healer or not, this was a lovely young woman undressing him, like Ginny had, three nights ago—though this time, he had no jeans on his legs. In moments all he was wearing was black boxers and his shoes. Which is where he kept his eyes focused on—seemed easier not to blush by doing this.  
  
Healer Pomfrey tutted and Margaret gasped . The welts and bruises actually looked worse after three days rather then better. Injuries caused by magic usual took longer to heal than normal ones  
  
After a moment Poppy spoke. "You wrapped your ribs and leg yourself?"  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
She gave him an approving nod in return. "You studied it all on your own?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am. Since all the books I read said it's quite mad to try proper healing on yourself, I, uh, had to find alternate ways of caring for things."  
  
"Too right Harry, but I wonder if that stopped you from learning a bit of healing anyway," she said with a smile in her voice.  
  
Harry replied shyly, "Uh, yes, a bit Madam Pomfrey, just some old techniques for general healing."  
  
Poppy Pomfrey was obviously very interested in hearing about the old forms Harry had learned, but must have realized this wasn't the best time to ask. But she couldn't resist asking, "And did you have any chance to try out what you studied?"  
  
"Uh, there was a bird, with a broken wing...."  
  
She smiled softly at him. "If you have time during the school year, you come down to my office and we'll have a lovely long chat, ok, Harry?"  
  
Before Harry could answer, he saw Margaret scrunch up her nose as she was closely inspecting the purple scab on his shoulder.  
  
Harry blushed more. "Sorry about that, it's this salve I mixed...." He paused as Pomfrey held up a hand to stop him.  
  
She leaned in and sniffed. She also scrunched up her nose, though not as much as Margaret had. "Very, very good Harry. This is a very old type of salve, works far better than the newer ones." Margaret looked curiously at Madam Pomfrey, "It's called the Doleo Cesso unguent. The reason it's not still used is because the ingredients are much more expensive, and the brewing is much more difficult."  
  
She smiled at Harry again. "I didn't realize you were a young potions master also, Harry."  
  
Harry flushed at the compliment, but was slightly bemused. It was a difficult potion to brew, but working alone in his chamber he had no real problems with it. Why did it seem like everyone was praising every little thing he did...?  
  
After twenty minutes or so Harry was giving his thanks to the healer and her trainee, and bowing himself out the room. He promised to them both that he would be careful. He walked with a slight bounce to his step, carrying the staff lightly. Madam Pomfrey insisted he take a small dose of Pepper Up potion so, for the moment anyway, the considerable fatigue he felt was forgotten.  
  
He met Dumbledore at the end of the hall. "Harry, perhaps it would be safer to leave here with no one seeing you leave."  
  
Harry looked at his Headmaster, confused for a moment. "But sir, I can't Apparate yet, and besides, there are Anti-Apparition wards over most of this place." Harry paused for a second, then whispered, "Do you mean to set up a Portkey?" Harry was a little startled. Had he seen those types of wards without realizing it till now?  
  
He got no response for a rather long moment. His headmaster was giving him that penetrating gaze again, "Very good Harry, you caught them very quickly considering, forgive me, but you are rather a novice at this skill." Dumbledore smiled at him, and continued, "I could create a portkey. . . though there isn't a need for it," he continued after seeing Harry's blank look, "Harry don't you have a little friend that can help you with this problem?"  
  
Harry continued to look blankly at Professor Dumbledore for several long minutes before his eyes widened and mouth hung agape. How could he have forgotten? He had seen Dumbledore do the same thing from his office only months ago. He whispered, "You...you mean Falcore?"  
  
At his name the Phoenix in question arrived with a flash of fire to land softly on Harry's now-unbruised shoulder.  
  
Harry stood shocked for a moment before checking the hallway for any people. Seeing no one, he spoke softly to the brilliant bird, "Can you take me back to Grimmauld Place, Falcore?"  
  
"Harry—concentrate now, send your thoughts to Falcore, visualize exactly where you want him to take you." Dumbledore still spoke in the same almost- whisper.  
  
Before Harry could respond, he felt like he was covered in fire, but it didn't frighten him. The moment it began, he felt an overpowering sense of love. It was an unfamiliar feeling, of being totally safe and protected. Safe in the bosom of this beautiful, fiery creature that would remain unflinching loyal to him till the end of his days.  
  
The ride was over in a split second, but the feeling stayed with him as he opened his eyes to find himself in the living room off the kitchen exactly as he had visualized. Falcore still sat contently on his shoulder; he still felt the love and trust emanating from the bird. Harry was in the exact spot where he saw Ginny when he had first arrived here. He was almost disappointed she wasn't curled up on the same chair. He heard the sounds of many voices coming from the kitchen. He propped the walking stick in a corner and started over to the door, but he hadn't gotten more than three steps before it opened. Ginny squealed with delight, sprinted over and threw her arms around him, catching him in a fierce embrace and planting a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Oh, Harry, you look wonderful!!! Oh, and WOW, were you brilliant in court today!!!" She was blushing only slightly while she said this.  
  
Harry stood there stunned for a moment. He felt his face flush slightly, but right now he didn't care. He felt incredible, perfect—for the moment everything was perfect in the world. He had accomplished everything he had wanted to today, and more, it seemed. Everyone was so proud, he impressed the wizards that needed to be, and Ginny in his arms, kissing him...this confused him to no end, but it felt so right, so...  
  
They broke the embrace as people came flooding out of the large kitchen to see him. He saw Ginny's face beaming with pride and affection at him. His elation grew when she reached up to stroke Falcore's neck, and Harry felt Falcore's affection for Ginny too...So strange and yet so wonderful...He took her hand and she smiled broadly in return. They both turned to great the mass of people coming over to congratulate him.  
  
Hermione came next, but then was followed by Mrs. Weasley, then Tonks, and most surprisingly, Professor McGonagall gave him a swift congratulatory hug. This was followed by Ron and the rest of the men giving him firm pats on the back. Remus went so far as to give him a rough one armed hug. This shocked Harry, and at the same time almost brought a tear to his eye. He settled on giving Remus a lopsided grin, which was embarrassingly returned.  
  
Dumbledore was last, his eyes twinkling merrily and the corners of his mouth twitching. "Did you enjoy your trip, Harry?"  
  
Harry looked at him, awed for a second, then said in a voice that matched his expression, "It was... unbelievable...."  
  
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ginny looking at him curiously. He didn't want to say anything here, in front of the whole Order.  
  
"Molly, do we have some time for a short meeting before your wonderful dinner is ready?"  
  
"Yes, Albus, and I think Harry could use a nice cup of tea after his day." She smiled fondly at Harry. The smile broadened slightly when her eyes darted down to the hands that were interlaced before her.  
  
Ginny saw her mother noticing her hand in Harry's. She felt the flush creeping up her face and quickly tried to take her hand from his. But he wouldn't let go. Ginny was about to say something slightly rude to him. She was convinced he was just teasing her. She thought her heart would stop when she turned back to him and saw the soft smile on his wonderfully unbruised face.  
  
'His eyes,' she thought. They were twinkling wildly. She lost herself for a moment. Her knees seemed to go weak when he squeezed her hand, and gently let go.  
  
'He's never looked at me like that before. . .'  
  
As she turned to walk into the kitchen she fought to get control of her heart rate, not to mention her flaming cheeks. All hope was lost when she saw Hermione's slightly wide eyes and obviously amused state. She fled the room before she got herself cornered.  
  
The kitchen was packed with people. Harry was given an honorary position at one end of the table, opposite from Dumbledore, who was flanked by Remus and McGonagall. He had Ginny to one side and Hermione to the other, with Ron sitting rather close to her. Everyone else just squeezed in wherever they could.  
  
After pouring Harry's tea, Molly spoke first. "Now, remember you lot, Harry's had a rough couple of days. Don't push him too much." She was ecstatic to see Harry actually unbruised and smiling. She was guessing it was far too long since that was last the case. She was afraid of it slipping away too quickly.  
  
Harry spoke now, in a serious voice, which startled some of the people there. "I think I can get most of the questions out of the way quickly, Mrs. Weasley."  
  
He turned to Hermione, and still in that serious voice said, "Yes, you can have a look at my copy of Merlin's notes, yes, I have been working on my own spells, no, I won't teach you my shield charm till I have it perfected, and yes, you will be one out of the first three I teach it to if I ever do perfect it." He ended with a cheeky grin, and said with a laugh, "Did I get them all, Hermy?"  
  
The table erupted in relieved laughter as Hermione swatted his arm playfully, but rather hard. "No you didn't, and stop calling me HERMY!"  
  
"What, good enough for Grawp, but not for me?" he said teasingly.  
  
He glanced over at Ron, who was laughing along with Hermione. Harry saw the love in his eyes whenever they looked towards her. 'How could I ever had missed that before?' he thought.  
  
'I really should talk to him about this. I am his best mate' He dreaded the thought of that conversation. Ron was even worse then he was when it came to feelings. But he felt it was one of his happier responsibilities.  
  
Their head of house spoke next. "Should I even ask how you four know about Grawp?" she said in mock exasperation.  
  
The four young Gryffindors went a bit pink. Everyone laughed when they pretended not to hear the question. Ron quickly jumped in. "So, what is your last question so we can get some in, 'Mione?"  
  
"Yes, Hermy, I thought I'd managed all the answers," Harry said, giving her an amused grin.  
  
Hermione shook her head, laughing. 'Brother indeed.'  
  
"I'm telling you, Potter, if people start calling me that, I will get even!"  
  
She glanced over at Ginny, leaned in a little and said in a whisper, "And have I got just the material for that."  
  
Harry's slight grin opened to a broad smile before she said, "Well, the last thing I've been meaning to ask, was how did you come up with Transfiguring a tree in a duel. I mean, that was brilliant. I don't think I would ever have thought of that."  
  
Harry's smile faded a bit, and his voice came out much softer. "That's because you've never seen the Headmaster duel, Hermione."  
  
An instant later, Hermione placed her hand over his on top of the table, and Ginny's found its way into his underneath. Silence swept the room; everyone there knew that Harry had witnessed the entire duel between Dumbledore and Voldemort.  
  
Molly Weasley was worried that something like this would happen. 'Harry is much too emotionally fragile right now to deal with all these things.' She spoke quickly, "I think that's all for now, dinner is just about ready. Girls, will you help me set the table, Ron get the silverware please."  
  
She saw Harry look up at her and smile gratefully. 'He really is such a dear boy,' she thought fondly.  
  
Bill's voice came next. "Mum, just one more thing. Harry, if you don't mind, we've all been talking about your Merlin's fire. . ." he brought up hesitantly.  
  
Harry smiled softly and nodded. He gently took his hand from Hermy's, noticing that Ron's arm was moving under the table, looking to take her hand under the table. Harry smiled to himself and squeezed Ginny's hand softly, as he extended his other arm across the middle of the table.  
  
A second later he was holding, not a ball of fire the size of an apple, which was the biggest he had ever conjured, but a ball the size of a cantaloupe. The color was different too—still red, but much more intense. Harry was startled. After a second he realized the room was silent around him. With a thought the ball shrunk down to apple size.  
  
After another second he said softly, "This is about the size of the one I sent at Bella." He closed his fist around the ball; with a small blinding flash, and gasps from around the room, it was gone.  
  
Harry was still sitting there bemused when he heard Moody growl, "Should've sent the big one at her. We might've been done with that filth."  
  
"Alastor!" Mrs. Weasley said reprovingly.  
  
Harry answered absently, without looking at anyone. "I was casting with my wand at the same time, Mad Eye. Besides I've never conjure one that big before." Harry realized he had just said that out loud. He knew without looking up that every eye was on him, and every mouth was open. Casting two spells at once...this is the first time Harry thought about that. He had cast two spells at the same exact moment. That was almost. . . impossible. Only the most powerful wizards would even attempt it. Those who weren't powerful enough usually passed out or hurt themselves badly. He had to check his Pensive, he had to be certain.  
  
After a moment, he ventured a look in Dumbledore's direction, and as he suspected, those blues eyes were locked on him. He couldn't bring himself to look over at his friends. . .  
  
"Girls, dishes, now, Ron. . ." said Mrs. Weasley's stern voice. When she passed behind Harry's chair, though, she paused long enough to give his shoulder a firm reassuring squeeze.  
  
Everyone was making pleasant conversation during the meal, so Harry began to relax again. He was told the twins were coming for a visit tomorrow night. Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were all going to mind the shop tomorrow night, so they could come. Summer business was going so well they just couldn't afford to close up early.  
  
The twin's coming made Harry think of something. As Ron returned with a handful of silverware he said "Ron, do you guys sell, like, a box of assorted sweets? Nothing dangerous, mind."  
  
"Sure, Harry. We have a few different standard sizes."  
  
He fished around for his coin purse and handed over some gold to Ron, ordering a medium sized box that the twins would bring over with them. He smiled to himself with the thought of Hedwig delivering it to a certain little angel. He would have to write Annabelle a letter tomorrow.  
  
"Oh, one more thing, add in one of their fake wands," Harry said as an afterthought.  
  
Ron was looking curiously at him, but hadn't responded yet, except to nod.  
  
Harry asked Bill about the wedding and honeymoon plans, and when he was going to see Fleur. She was in Paris at her parents' home, packing all her things to bring to her and Bill's new flat, which wasn't too far away in a small wizarding community. They were going on a week-long sea cruise—apparently there was a popular wizarding cruise line. In those seven days they would cover seaports all over the world. He felt at one point that Bill was going to insist he come to the wedding, but a sharp look from Mrs. Weasley stopped him flat. Harry was glad; at least someone was paying attentions to the danger, even though he was disappointed about not going.  
  
Towards the end of the meal Harry was talking to Moody across the table about La Roche, Mad Eye was most amused about how Harry had handled him. Tonks and Kingsley agreed, and said that the Aurors would be looking into him closely.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hermione taking Ginny by the arm and literally dragging her from the room. He looked over at Ron and they shared an amused and curious look.  
  
After another fifteen minutes, Madam Pomfrey's pepper-up potion must have begun to wear off. Harry tried to fight down the huge yawns, but it was a losing battle. He had to get some sleep. Ginny and Hermione hadn't come back to the room. He bade everyone in the kitchen a good night. He received a hug and a kiss from Mrs. Weasley, and went off to see where the other two went off to.  
  
They weren't in the living room; he went up to the next level. The drawing room door was closed, but he saw light coming from underneath. As he approached he could hear two female voices talking and giggling.  
  
He hesitated for a moment, and then knocked. The giggling immediately stopped, then after a minute, the door swung open to reveal a rosy-cheeked Hermione.  
  
He tried to stifle back a yawn, but failed miserably. "Sorry about that. Didn't mean to interrupt your chat, but I'm beat, going to get some sleep. I just wanted to say goodnight to you and Ginny."  
  
Hermione pulled him into the room, and said with a bit of an odd grin, "Oh you didn't interrupt. Actually we were just talking about you."  
  
"Oh?" Harry said, eyebrows raised. He shot a glance at Ginny, who looked like she was going to either be sick or perhaps pull out her wand and start hexing. (  
  
'HERMIONE!!! What the HELL are you doing???' thought Ginny frantically.  
  
Harry just looked at her curiously when Hermione abruptly hugged Harry goodnight and hurriedly left the room saying, "See you downstairs, Ginny."  
  
"Ginny, is anything wrong?" He sounded concerned.  
  
She couldn't say anything as she was thinking frantically. 'Oh god, oh god, oh god, I'm gonna kill her. . . I can't just ask him! I'll just feel like such a fool yet again around him, he just cares for me like a friend, nothing's changed.' 'But when I kissed him. . . that's right—when you kissed him. . .' 'Well, he didn't pull away, and he did kiss me the first night. . .' 'You were upset, but the way he looked at me when he got back. . .' 'I have to ask him, I will ask him, he said he thought I was brave and true in his letter. . ." 'I WILL ASK HIM!'  
  
Before she could say anything, though, he came closer and said, "Gin?" She looked up at his face now. Looking up she saw his eyes, filled with concern, and yes, she was sure of it, there was affection there. Love? Maybe, but more then she had ever seen before. She answered a little breathlessly, "No, Harry, nothing's wrong, I just wanted to ask you something."  
  
"May I?" he asked, gesturing to the spot next to her on the sofa.  
  
"P-please, Harry," she said nervously.  
  
Harry sat easily; it was so nice to do that without the feeling of knives tearing at his insides. He thought Ginny was having trouble asking her question. He really hoped nothing was wrong. Maybe he should say something to make it easier for her.  
  
"Ginny," he said very quietly, looking deep into her eyes. "I will wait as long as you need me to. I don't mind." He gave her a soft smile and continued, "You do know you can ask me anything, right?"  
  
He was still rather bemused. 'She said nothing's wrong, I don't have a clue what this is about.'  
  
She nodded and returned a small smile. 'I can't ask him yet. I just need a few minutes to form the words, but I have to say something. I look like an idiot.' "Harry, what did Professor Dumbledore mean about your little trip?" 'God, what the hell am I coming out with?'  
  
Ginny noticed how Harry's whole face lit up. He hesitated a second, then leaned in. "Can I tell you a secret?"  
  
Ginny was intrigued now. She was just buying time, but this suddenly seemed immensely interesting. She leaned a little closer too. 'I'm getting in on one of Harry's famous secrets, the first one!!!'  
  
"You know I can Harry, I promise to keep quiet," she said a little breathlessly, as her and Harry's eyes locked again for a moment.  
  
Harry's beaming face said, "You didn't have to promise, Gin, you know I trust you."  
  
'Damn, I shouldn't have gotten so close, looking in her eyes this close...' 'What the hell is wrong with you, Harry??? This is your Friend Ginny!' 'Yeah the friend who hugs feel sooo...And those little kisses...'  
  
"Uh...well, you know what powerful magical creature's Phoenixes are. You saw how Falcore healed me up...."  
  
She nodded, not sure what he was talking about.  
  
"Well," he said even more quietly, "phoenixes can also Apparate."  
  
She sat there a bit confused. Harry saw her blank look and said quickly, "With a passenger... I don't think it's like regular Apparition. It was...it was amazing, I never felt anything like it; maybe I could have you try some time..."  
  
Ginny smiled at the awed look on Harry's face. It must have been some ride to make Harry so breathless.  
  
Before she said anything, though, Harry was gazing into her eyes intently. She seemed to be losing her breath as well. "But that's not all you want to ask me, is it?"  
  
'She seems so nervous, must be something hard to talk about.' Harry thought he might be making it harder to talk about by sitting so close.  
  
'Oh no, he's backing away from me. He really doesn't feel that way towards me, I'M ABOUT TO MAKE A FOOL OF MYSELF!!!' 'No, you are not backing out; you promised yourself you would ask him! He said you're brave, now prove it!!!'  
  
"Harry, would you please escort me to Bill's wedding, there is no one I would rather go with then you." She said all this very quickly. 'You IDIOT, did you have to say that last part!!!' She watched his face as it changed from a look of wonder, of affection, of elation, but that look faded quickly to disappointment, and sorrow, and more than a bit of fright.  
  
His sad voice responded, "Ginny, I would lo. . . I would really like to, I would be honored to really, but...."  
  
She heard the regret in his voice. He was frightened for all of them—'But he would want to! Yes!!!' "Harry, I asked Professor Dumbledore what he thought. He said that he would be there, and almost the whole Order is going to be there, too. Not to mention a lot of Ministry wizards that my dad invited. He's sure it will be safe."  
  
Harry was stunned and a bit moved, 'She actually went to Dumbledore without dying of embarrassment???  
  
'Yes she did! Just for you, and If you say no, you are the biggest git that ever walked on the face of the world!'  
  
Well, that was all it took. He took Ginny's hand, looked her straight in the eye, and said from his heart, "Ginny, nothing would please and honor me more than escorting you to your brother's wedding."  
  
Her heart STOPPED! His hand was still holding hers; she could almost feel his power, his love. 'He's looking at me again like that again," she thought breathlessly. "Thank you," she said, almost too quietly to be heard. 


	6. The Book

Chapter Six: The Book  
  
"Arrggg," growled Harry Potter, pounding his fists on the bed beneath him. He was very frustrated. He had been lying here, dead tired, for nearly three hours, but too many things were going through his head. He simply could not clear his mind. Therefore he could not sleep. Falcore had been singing softly for more than an hour, a valiant attempt by his latest friend to aid him, but all that effort was to no avail.  
  
The song abruptly ended when Harry spoke. "Thanks for trying to help; we'll try again in a little while. Care to come down with me for a bit of hot chocolate?"  
  
Falcore settled on his shoulder as he rose to leave the room. Trudging down the stairs, he saw a light still on in the kitchen.  
  
Upon entering, he heard, "Harry, what are you still doing up?" Harry heard Remus ask in an exasperated voice.  
  
Remus and Professor Dumbledore were sitting at the end of the table talking quietly—though now both were looking at him with deep concern.  
  
"Sorry, didn't mean to disturb you." Harry sighed deeply. "Can't sleep, I can't clear my mind...."  
  
"And Falcore, he was not able to help you?" Dumbledore said kindly.  
  
"He's been singing to me for an hour. I just have too many things on my mind, too many things to think about." Harry smiled softly and continued, "I thought I'd try your remedy now, Professor."  
  
Dumbledore returned the smile, and Harry said, "May I offer you two a nice mug of hot chocolate?"  
  
"An excellent idea, Harry. I'm glad not all of my important teachings are lost on my students," he teased gently. "Remus?"  
  
Remus nodded, but never took his concerned gaze from Harry.  
  
After several minutes the three sat at one end of the large wooden table, sipping large, steaming mugs. A soft look of pleasure showed on the faces of all three as they sipped the hot, creamy and strangely comforting drink.  
  
After a few more moments of silence, Dumbledore said, very quietly, "Harry, sometimes it's best to speak of the things that are playing on your mind. Sometimes it's the only way to get a moment's peace."  
  
Harry looked from Remus to Dumbledore, saying nothing, but his mind racing with thoughts. Averting his gaze from the pair in front of him, he saw his owls, Hedwig and Snuffles, on the owl perch. He smiled softly at them—they were so peaceful and content, cuddling there without a care in the world. He saw the Hedwig's golden eyes open and give him a loving look. She flew over to land on the opposite shoulder that Falcore sat on.  
  
Harry spoke softly, avoiding the main point for a while, gazing all the while into Hedwig's eyes: "You know, I thought Hedwig would be jealous of Falcore."  
  
He reached up to stroke the back of his owl's neck as he heard Dumbledore chuckle. "Jealous, Harry? She's positively beaming with pride." Harry realized, when he looked at Hedwig again, that Dumbledore was right—her snowy chest was puffed out, and yes—there was pride, as well as love, there. He smiled at her and stroked her belly.  
  
He didn't look over to the pair of wizards across from him, but felt their eyes on him. After another sip of his cocoa he said, "It was really some day...so many things...to consider...to understand.... " He trailed off.  
  
"I take it you mean more than your decision to escort Ginny to the wedding on Saturday," Remus said in an obviously amused voice.  
  
Harry's eyes snapped to him, a slight blush on his cheeks. "How...."  
  
Remus chuckled. "Molly took one look at Ginny when she came back into the kitchen, turned to Bill, and said to make sure he told Fleur that you were coming."  
  
Harry smiled for a moment. It faded quickly when he said, "Are you sure it's safe for me to go? I mean, I don't want anyone put in danger."  
  
They spoke of security precautions for several minutes; the pair allayed some of his worry. They told him some of the wards around the Burrow and the ones they put around the meadow in the apple orchard, where the wedding reception would take place. But he did wonder what Mad Eye would say about this—after all, no one was more security-conscious then he.  
  
"Professor, uh, did you speak to Hagrid? I was hoping to talk to him tonight. I figured he'd be here this evening. I wanted to tell him...."  
  
Dumbledore looked at him for a moment. "Yes, Harry, we spoke right after the trial. I believe he was on the way to Surrey. I had to do some quick thinking and send him on a week-long mission." He paused at Harry's questioning look. "I assume not telling us about your uncle and cousin was for his benefit?"  
  
It was his turn to chuckle. "Yes sir. I mean, Hagrid usually listens to me, but with this...."  
  
Remus spoke now, amusement in his voice. "Yes, I think Albus was hoping a week with Madame Maxine would get his mind off it till we can think of something."  
  
Harry snorted into his mug. "Yes, well. Her, or maybe a baby dragon, would be the only things that would keep him occupied."  
  
The three shared a short, knowing, laugh.  
  
Harry went quiet again, staring into his mug, trying to calm his mind, just trying to enjoy the moment. After a couple of more minutes of silence Harry spoke softly, "Maybe it's just everyone praising me today, I don't know...."  
  
He continued in the same voice. "I mean, I got into a fight...if the Aurors hadn't shown up...I spend my days and nights training, is that so much to be proud of...."  
  
"Madame Pomfrey called me a young potions master, for god's sake!" he cried in vexation.  
  
He started pacing at some point, Falcore and Hedwig flying over to the perch as he rose. Dumbledore and Remus let him talk; they tried to let him vent some of his frustration. All the while they watched him closely, their eyes full of concern and understanding. He spoke very little of his summer work and even less of his fears, but the pair in front of him heard it nonetheless. Harry even spoke of the insanity of possibly seeing Ginny now, with Voldemort after him. The whole bloody Boy-Who-Lived-Thing. People gawking at him every time he was out amongst wizards. Snape, in general—though the pair in front couldn't help but reprimanded him again about 'Professor.' He spoke for nearly half an hour, all the while feeling sleepier and sleepier. When he was done, he slumped into his chair with a great sigh.  
  
Before Dumbledore spoke, he leaned towards Harry, extracted his wand, and tapped his mug. Fresh steam poured out of it, and Harry sipped gratefully.  
  
"Harry...."  
  
Harry cut off the Headmaster. In an exhausted voice, he said, "I know, Professor...I'm famous...I know...."  
  
"It gets so tiring...I know things are what they are, and I have to live with them...I have to do what I have to do...what's done is done...I know...."  
  
Remus was startled by the level of dejection in Harry's voice. He looked over at Albus and saw the same reaction—well, in his old Headmaster's understated way. Harry spoke of only a small portion of his worry, of the least of his trials. But what he had heard about would be enough to exhaust the most experienced of men and wizards.  
  
Remus was afraid for his best friend's son; afraid he couldn't endure. He struggled for words of comfort, but could find none. He saw Harry swig the last of his hot chocolate and abruptly stand.  
  
"Uh...I...thanks for listening to me feeling sorry for myself," he said in a voice of self-disgust, as he strode towards the door.  
  
The pair of wizards still struggled for words. Remus glanced at Dumbledore, who gave a small nod. "Harry, I'm supposed to leave for a mission in a few hours. I'm supposed to be gone till Friday. This will be the last one I go on for quite some time. But. . . uh. . . If you'd like, I mean, we could rearrange it if you need me to stay," Remus said this all very hesitantly.  
  
"No thanks, Mooney, you be careful though...Goodnight," he said with a yawn.  
  
"Goodnight, Harry," the pair intoned.  
  
Before reaching the door he turned back to them, a thought having just occurred to him. "By the way, what ever happened to Kreacher. Haven't seen him since I've been back here,"  
  
Neither wizard liked the tone of voice Harry used now, and at least in part were glad the house elf fled after the events at the Ministry of Magic. Dumbledore spoke in a calming voice: "He fled, Harry, and hasn't been seen since that night at the Ministry."  
  
Remus tried a lighter tone. "Well, after what Albus did to his mistress's painting, it's no wonder...."  
  
Harry just nodded absently, said his goodnights again, and returned to his bed.  
  
The two remained in the kitchen for more than an hour more, mostly discussing Harry. How to treat him, what to say, if anything needed to be said, but both agreed there wasn't much that could be done at the moment. Not until the time Harry came to them. They sincerely hoped that things with Harry had changed enough that he would actually do this. They spoke till it was time for Remus to head out on his mission, what was thought to be the last extended one for quite a while.  
  
Harry woke after nearly five hours of sleep, which for this summer was a monumental accomplishment. He sat up in bed and saw that Falcore's eyes opened for a moment when he rose, but they closed again as the phoenix continued its slumber.  
  
He realized something; he had no idea how to care for his bird. 'I have to ask Dumbledore the next time I see him,' he thought.  
  
Harry sat on the edge of the bed, in bemused silence, the events of the past several days still weighing on him. He tried to focus his mind on Ginny, on the wedding. 'It should be a good time,' he thought, but everything else was repressing even the slight happiness she brought him. He settled on this level mood, and hoped that he could keep on this level.  
  
He took a long hot shower and dressed in his usual brown work robes and decided to try a bit of breakfast before he threw himself into work. Making his way down the stairs something of last night's conversation came back to him. What had Dumbledore meant about Mrs. Black's portrait? It was funny, he hadn't heard her ravings at all since he got here. When he was at the bottom level of the house, he saw the curtains containing the portrait were closed tight. Curiosity got the best of him then. Very carefully he parted the curtains; he was shocked at what he saw. It looked like a mini glacier encasing the painting—it was inches thick, cold radiating from it.  
  
Harry studied it for a few more minutes. It didn't seem to be melting at all, and he went into a slight trance and saw the enormity of the charm that was put there.  
  
"Definitely Dumbledore's work..." he muttered.  
  
Harry considered for a moment about asking his headmaster about the spell, but as he thought more about it, he realized that it would not help him in a fight, so there was little point. He sighed sadly at this thought and continued to the kitchen.  
  
He paused at the doorway; he hadn't expected anyone to be here this early on a Tuesday morning. Obviously he was wrong. Kingsley and Tonks, Mad Eye, Mr. Weasley, and of course Snape, were here.  
  
'Just what I need early in the morning: him,' he thought dispiritedly.  
  
He spoke before they saw he was there. "Good morning everyone. I didn't realize you were having a meeting." He knew he wasn't wanted here and spoke before anyone else did. "I won't disturb you, I'll come back a little later."  
  
As he turned in the doorway, Mr. Weasley said jovially, "That's all right, Harry. We're finished; we were just going to have a cup of tea before we all headed out to work. Join us, please."  
  
Harry gave him a small smile and joined the Order members at the table, taking care not to meet Snape's eyes. As he took his first sip of tea several owls swooped in from the kitchen fireplace, all carrying today's edition of the Daily Prophet.  
  
Placing the coins into the owl's small leather pouch, he repressed a sigh. The headline today was Potter astounds Wizengamot. 'Well, maybe tomorrow my name won't be on the front page.' He forced himself not to look at his potions master, but felt the sneering look directed at him as he began to read the first page.  
  
"I always thought you didn't read about yourself in the papers, Harry," Mr. Weasley asked curiously.  
  
Harry couldn't stifle a small sigh this time, and said without taking his eyes from the paper, he said, "I made the decision yesterday to see what's being said about me...might be too important to ignore."  
  
"Smart thinking, Potter. I hate to say this, but there may be hope for you yet," Moody said with a chuckle.  
  
Harry finished the article quickly. The facts were right, he supposed, but must everything he did become so glorified? He quickly scanned the rest of the paper for anything of interest as he raised a piece of toast to him mouth. It never got there as two rather large screech owls flew down the kitchen fireplace. They were carrying a large package in tandem. The pair landed right in front of him.  
  
The package, what looked to be a very large book, sat on the table in front of him. He tore the piece of toast in two and handed half to each of them. He untied the thongs from their legs without taking his eyes off of the brown wrapped parcel. He hadn't been expecting anything—he was very suspicious.  
  
Harry went into a light trance and began to scan the book. It had to be a spell book—the amount of residual magic was immense, almost blinding, as he deepened the scan. Someone tried to speak to him. He thought it was Mr. Weasley. He heard Mad Eye respond to him, but couldn't make out the words. He began to mutter a simple sensing incantation and searched for remnants of dark magic. He used a lot of energy searching this way, but the only way he was going to increase his skills was by pushing. As he had done all summer. After a few minutes he quit. As he was coming out he sensed all eyes at the table focused on him.  
  
He didn't catch anyone's eye yet. Calmly drawing his wand, he mumbled another spell and flicked his wand. A thin golden mist started to flow out of it. He covered the book, placing layer upon layer of mist over it. When it was covered he put his wand down and waited. If the parcel was jinxed or cursed the mist would stick to it, but after a minute it faded to nothing. He sat staring at it for a moment, and then picked up his wand to try another test.  
  
Moody's voice cut him off. "Ok Potter, two tests are more than enough. Besides, my eyes can usually pick up the residuals. The book is clean. You weren't expecting it?"  
  
Harry slowly shook his head, reaching out he removed a parchment letter that was attached to the top.  
  
"You check all your mail this way?" Mad Eye growled.  
  
"When it's unexpected, yes," Harry said softly.  
  
"Good lad! You're finally learning. Though two tests should cover it—any more and people will start thinking you're paranoid." Moody chuckled heartily at this.  
  
Harry was only half listening; he unfolded the letter and began to read to himself.  
  
Dear Mr. Potter,  
  
If I had known that one Mundungus Fletcher was collecting books for you, I might have reconsidered giving it to him. Though not before I spoke to you. This is a powerful book, which must not fall into the wrong hands. Your performance and sincerity yesterday convinced me that you should be the holder of this. I've never read it, but I do have a good idea of what it entails. Times are getting dangerous again, and you are in more peril than the rest of us. That much is obvious. Study hard, young warrior. Feel free to write me if you have any questions, or need any advice. We are all on the same side in this. And if you ever need another wizard to stand by your side to fight the good fight, please don't hesitate to call on me. I've never been one to back off a fight, but for some reason the Death Eaters always avoid me.  
  
Yours in Fellowship,  
  
Colin Thatcher  
  
Harry folded the parchment and slipped it into the pocket of his robes. A small satisfied smile appeared on his face. As he looked up he caught Moody's curious, non-magical eye.  
  
Harry shrugged. "It's a book I've been trying to get, but the wizard wouldn't give it up. Seems like the trial yesterday changed his mind about parting with it."  
  
It seemed everyone there wanted to question him further, but it also seemed no one felt they had the right to do so. After several more minutes, Harry finished his tea, bid everyone a good day, and left for the drawing room. He made for his favorite overstuffed chair, and tore off the plain brown wrapping.  
  
"Yes!" he said in low voice. This was the book he wanted, he needed. He examined the ancient glossy bindings—the black dragon hide still looked new, and he could almost feel the preservative charms on it. He ran his fingers lightly across the gold gilt writing on the cover.  
  
"Proeliator Della Luminarius," he said in a low voice touched with awe.  
  
Warriors of the Light. It was a training manual written well over a thousand years ago, by an order of witches and wizards. They ruled lands and protected their people from the forces of the dark. The very existence of this book, as well as the order itself, was something of a legend. Harry had written letters to wizards all over Europe. He had hoped he could find it, had dreamed of finding it... When he heard Thatcher had it he was ecstatic, but then Dung was unsuccessful, even after authorizing him to offer a large amount of gold. He had planned on paying Mr. Thatcher a personal visit, to beg to borrow it... But now he had it. It was his.  
  
Harry leaned back in the chair, opening his senses as far a he could. He searched the house to make sure he was alone, ignoring the spells around him. He was pushing his sensing skill every chance he could—he was feeling the drain on his strength. After several moments he was sure of no one else was there. He checked his watch and saw he had nearly ten hours until the twins would arrive.  
  
'Do I start here, or do I use my trunk?' He thought quickly. 'Definitely the trunk. Who knows who will show up here?' With that he ran up to his room, a quick locking charm on the door. He fumbled with the keys to his trunk. In his excitement he tried the wrong key twice. Once opened, he didn't even bother with the old wooden ladder; he swung his legs in and dropped lightly down on the smooth stone surface. He flicked his wand, closing the lid behind him; again he used a locking charm, but went a step further by also putting an 'Imperturbable' charm on it. Now no one should be able to tell what was going on inside—at least not without an inordinate amount of effort.  
  
Several moments later he was seated at his little wooden table, opening the iron hasps that held the book closed. The first page was written entirely in Latin, a letter or a declaration of sorts; luckily it was one of the languages Harry was now fluent in.  
  
We, my brethren and I, are the last of our kind: the wizard lords. We are the rulers and the high protectors of our lands, and we set our knowledge and legacy upon this tome. We do this in hopes that our children will know of our accomplishments both in battle and in magic. Three stand where before stood many. Treachery had beset our houses, decimating our warriors and our beloved. The forces of the dark surround us on all sides. We stand on the brink of our own extinction. The rest are too old or too young to join the battle against the dark. But we will fight, till the last breath leaves us and we have no strength left to raise wand or sword or blade. This is the nature of our order, the battle for the honor of the light. It is our shame to say our vigilance waned, and now we pay the price with our blood.  
  
We leave this in hope or children will be able to learn and remember our work lest they survive. Though no book, no matter how inventive and intuitive can compare to the learning of our skills and ways; given over with our love as was intended.  
  
We are an ancient order of witches and wizards, husbands and wives, parents and offspring. Our history begins in a time out of mind. We are warriors without peer, with magic or without, this is well known though out the lands and across the seas. This is what we are known for, and it has kept the peace for many an age. What is not widely known, what we are most proud of was not accomplished on the field of battle. Our researches have brought magical expertise to a level unknown, in every field imaginable.  
  
This mighty tome holds most of our combined knowledge, of lifetimes of work and study. We impart it for our children's sake. Know this, if you are not of our lines, but have a heart that is true and a cause that is just, we shall be an aid to you as well. If you are associated with the forces of dark, we shall deal with you as we have through out the ages. So you have been warned, once initiated, a tribunal awaits thee. Our judgment is final; we shall aid you, banish thee from the tome's knowledge, or deal with you as we dealt with our enemies. You have been forewarned.  
  
Harry leaned back from the book and considered what he had just read. He thought, 'this could be dangerous... this could be very foolish.' He thought of countless arguments for and against, but what settled him, though, was a long look at his 'Wall of Inspiration.' It was a small section of wall he devoted to the things he was fighting for. Pictures were stuck up haphazardly: his parents, his friends, his family. Newspaper clippings and birthday cards, the Valentine's Day card Ginny had given him in his second year. Even the painting Dobby had made him last Christmas was on the wall. These were the things he was training for; these were the things worth saving.  
  
"The things I will save!" he said fiercely.  
  
He slowly turned to the next page and found upon it a small window, much like the one he found in Tom Riddle's old diary. For a moment Harry became wary. He leaned back again, and tried again to sense any dark magic. He searched deeper then he had ever tried before, but could find no trace.  
  
He checked to make sure his wand was clear and easily drawn, then he tentatively reached out his left hand. As soon as the tip of his finger touched the window he felt himself tip forward, and fall through.  
  
He landed lightly and after a second his eyes focused. He found himself in a large, circular, audience chamber. Between the high, narrow, windows, the thick stone walls were hung with large banners and pennants of designs he didn't recognize. His hand never left the wand stuck in his belt. Slowly he turned, taking in the large, iron bound, double doors set into stone wall. It was deadly silent.  
  
He whirled about, almost drawing his wand, as he heard a deep gravely voice say, "You are not of our lines, boy. How dare you come to this place, seeking our aid, prepared to draw on us?" Harry turned to see a small raised dais, where a witch and two wizards sat. He made his way closer to them. He took his hand from his wand, and as he arrived in front of the dais, he bowed formally, right arm crossing his middle, left out and back. "I apologize for my rudeness. I meant no disrespect. The only experience I have with the type of magic this book contains was a book filled with dark arts, created by my enemy."  
  
They didn't respond right away, as if considering him. He got a chance to take a good look at the trio that would decide his worthiness. The wizard with the coarse voice was short and broad, with mid-length sandy hair, and a short trimmed beard. He was also battle-scared and reminded Harry very much of a light-haired version of Moody. He wore robes of a deep purple, with a sigil of a hippogriff flying across a deep blue sky on his chest.  
  
The witch, who sat to the left of the first in the middle of the three, wore robes of a bright yellow, the sigil of a hawk ready to strike on them. She had long dark hair, tied loosely back, and tinged with just a touch of gray. A sharp nose and deep hazel eyes complimented this kind, handsome- looking woman—though under the kindness Harry saw a fierceness that he was sure he would not have noticed even a short time ago.  
  
The last of the group wore robes of midnight blue; a snarling manticore adorned his. He had dark, curly hair, and eyes were as dark as night. He was a once handsome man who looked haunted and forlorn. Harry could see the deep sadness there. He felt like he could almost understand that look.  
  
The blue-robed wizard spoke. "Be easy, Horatio. This young wizard's wariness should bode well for the seriousness of his plight, though I am unsure how to take the declaration of dealings with a book of such powerful black arts." He turned to Harry, waved his hand, and a high-backed wooden chair appeared next to him. "Please sit. We will speak for a few moments before the official tribunal begins."  
  
"Thank you my Lords, and Lady," he said as he sat.  
  
"Please dispense with the formalities, young wizard." This was the witch who spoke now. She surveyed him—he sat much as he had at the trial, legs crossed, his arms on the armrests, fingers tented in front of him, hoping he looked as collected as he did then. She continued, "As you may have heard, this is the most esteemed wizard Horatio, and this distinguished wizard is called Morgus, and I am called Eleanora." She ended with a small smile.  
  
Harry nodded to each of them in turn, and returned the small smile. "It is a great honor to meet you all. Your order is something of a legend by now. My name is Harry Potter." He made sure to watch carefully for any reaction, in case there was any contact with another wizard. He saw none and was relieved, but still cautious.  
  
"It is as I thought when we first saw you. Many an age has passed since we set ourselves upon this tome." Morgus spoke again, his voice soft and clear.  
  
"Well more than a thousand years, from what I can figure." Harry realized something—he was speaking and understanding English from these wizards. "Pardon me, I just realized, how is it you we speak the same language? The beginning of the book is in what I know as Latin."  
  
Horatio spoke again. "A universal translator spell. It only works inside a construct spell like this book."  
  
Harry nodded slightly. "I see. I've never even heard of a spell that could be a universal translator, especially with a language that hadn't been invented when the spell was cast." He bowed in respect.  
  
"A thousand years. . . such a very long time. . . and again we are called to fight against the dark." She paused for a moment, and an odd expression crossed her face as she continued. "If I may ask, what is the device upon your face?"  
  
'On my face? What the hell is she talking about?' he thought frantically, then realized: "They are called eye glasses. They are a device for correcting poor vision."  
  
The three facing him nodded in understanding. "Well then," Morgus spoke, "the tribunal shall begin now, Harry Potter. You have read and understood the introduction of this book?"  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"Then we shall proceed. You mentioned your enemy, and the use of dark magic. I assume he or she is a powerful dark wizard?"  
  
Harry nodded again and was about to speak when the gravely voice cut in. "And what can a boy your age have done to get a dark wizard that angry with you? Did he catch you with his daughter or some such?" His voice was practically dripping with sarcasm.  
  
Harry was about to lash out at him, but kept his temper. It seemed to be a full-time job, just doing that. "No sir," he said coldly. "He has been trying to kill me since he knew I was born." He paused for a moment then continued in a soft voice, "You see, there was a prophecy, given before I was born," he trailed off.  
  
He saw the trio nodding before Eleanora spoke in a kind voice, "We understand, Harry; it has happened before. Every few generations the Fates give a task to one such as you. It is always a heavy burden to bear."  
  
"Just because he tells us he has been giving a task does not mean he is worthy to be as one of us," Horatio growled. He reminded Harry so much of Moody now, it was scary.  
  
Morgus spoke. "He will have the chance to prove himself, old friend," he said to the scarred wizard, then turned to look at Harry again. "You will be able to project your memories to us, to prove your worth to us."  
  
He nodded and began to give a very brief story of his life, explaining the reasons why he was the Boy-Who-Lived. He sent flashes of memory only when he sensed confusion from the three. He also had to go through a very thorough explanation of Hogwarts; a school for witchcraft was something unheard of for them. He learned that, in their time, knowledge was passed from parents to children, and those born to Muggles were adopted by a family and treated and educated as part of such. Harry also had to explain about the concept of the Ministry of Magic; after all, they had lived in a time even before the Witches' or Warlock Councils. He explained the weakness of the current Minister, and that the dark forces were gaining followers and power. He also spoke of the underground movement lead by his Headmaster, and that Dumbledore was the most powerful wizard of this age.  
  
There was silence for several moments as they considered everything he had said. "We move on to specifics now. We ask you to show us the proof of your worth, of your desire to serve the light. Know this though—if you try to hide much, we will be able to sense it."  
  
Harry thought hard about this. He was flummoxed for a time, his mind whirling—but as happened so often lately, a certain lovely redhead popped into his mind. He smiled softly, and began to send images of his second year at Hogwarts. He sent them the memories of the Chamber of Secrets and of the basilisk, making sure to show them Tom Riddles diary.  
  
He looked up after a few minutes and saw them looking impressed. "And how old were you when you and the Phoenix fought the basilisk?" Horatio said in a voice that matched his look.  
  
"I was twelve. The Phoenix, by the way, belongs to my Headmaster. My own, Falcore, joined me less than a week ago."  
  
"A Phoenix has joined with you, at your age?" Morgus said a bit disbelievingly.  
  
Harry nodded, and sent them the images of his meeting with Falcore.  
  
Eleanora spoke next. "You were injured. Did you actually face your enemy, this so-called 'Lord' Voldemort?"  
  
Harry replied softly, "No, some of his followers set a trap for me...." He paused a moment and showed them the duel.  
  
Again the three looked impressed, and stayed silent for a moment. He thought to say, "Perhaps if I showed you a duel I witnessed recently? Dumbledore protected me from Voldemort. You should see what I am up against." They nodded in agreement.  
  
They were silent for a long time now; each seemed to be going over the duel several times. The growling voice said, "Your enemy is filth—extremely powerful, yes, but filth all the same. You have a lot of work to do, boy." The other two nodded in agreement.  
  
Eleanora spoke with a hint of a smile. "Your Headmaster seems to be an extraordinary man. I've never seen someone use transfiguration in such a way. How I would have liked to know him, though, those robes." She finished with a chuckle.  
  
Harry laughed with her. He was still a bit angry with his Headmaster, but the three noticed the deep affection in his voice. "Yes, it seems something of a tradition now. The more powerful the witch or wizard, the more extravagant the robes. I always thought it was somehow fitting on him,"  
  
Morgus also showed a hint of a smile and said, "The influence of Merlin, handed down through the generations," he paused and frowned as if in thought. "That small ball of fire, was that perhaps his 'Living fire'?"  
  
"I suppose so. I learned it from some copies of his notes, but I don't know the name of it. I've been calling it, 'Merlin's Fire.'"  
  
"A fitting name and quite an accomplishment learning it. It shows your power levels are well beyond your years, even before your unlocking rituals. But beware, young wizard—using pure magic that way is a wonderful and powerful thing, but there are dangers, especially to one that knows not his levels. You have much work to do. If you drain yourself completely, you will die, with or without finishing the task the Fates set you, so be wary." Eleanora looked over at the other two and received nods. She continued, "My fellows here are ready to agree that you are worthy. Though I need two points clarified before we proceed." She looked at him hard for a moment. "We are not full beings here, just a semblance of what we were, and each with a portion of our senses. What I sense from you is great guilt, along with great sadness. You've showed us how noble you've acted though out your young life. I would ask you to explain this."  
  
Harry met her eyes for long moments, and began to send images of Sirius and of the night at the ministry. He tried to show his fear for his friends, the betrayal by his family, Cedric being killed. He hesitated for just a moment and then sent his shame for his using the Cruciatus curse on Bella. If they were going to judge him, then he wanted them to judge him on his accomplishments as well as his shame and foolish mistakes.  
  
Silence reigned for long moments before the growling voice came out very softly, "Did you enjoy it? Did you enjoy giving pain, Harry?"  
  
Harry struggled to meet Horatio's eyes. He shook his head, his eyes shinning with tears of shame.  
  
"We understand, Harry. We have all done things that we are most ashamed of, and done things we would have never thought we were capable of...."  
  
This silence was much shorter this time before Eleanora spoke. "And then it is agreed that our knowledge is yours to study and use. You have a noble and loving soul, Harry Potter, and in our time you would have been a welcomed and respected member of our Order."  
  
Harry rose from his chair and again bowed formally. In a soft voice he replied, "I thank you with all my heart. I do not mean to seem rude, but I'd like to begin as soon as possible."  
  
She nodded knowingly, and spoke kindly. "We understand, Harry. Your enemy has many years more experience and knowledge than you, and you need to catch up as quickly as possible. We understand. . ."  
  
Morgus spoke now. "Unfortunately, we have not the precise knowledge to destroy your enemy. As you have shown us, even the Avada Kedavra curse was not enough." He sighed softly. "So even with the knowledge you receive from us, you will have much work to do."  
  
Harry nodded slightly. He had already figured this.  
  
"Harry, before we can begin, you must decide the direction you wish to proceed in," Eleanora said.  
  
"Uh. . . pardon me, but what do you mean, exactly?"  
  
Horatio spoke now, "If this Dumbledore fellow wanted to learn everything in this book, it would take him about a year or so spending a couple of hours a day at work. Partly because of his power levels, but more importantly because of the knowledge he already possesses."  
  
Morgus continued. "We could not fit all of our combined knowledge into one book. We tried very hard to do so. We settled on leaving out much of the knowledge that was common in our time. No matter that time has passed—the theories remain the same."  
  
Harry spoke slowly, considering what he just heard, and said, "So I will be given the rarer or unknown knowledge, but much of the basics I need to learn through other books."  
  
"Partially correct, but still incomplete. You have learned much of the basics already. Not only must you learn the knowledge beyond the mere basics, but you must train your magic and your body to work them, much like you had to do whenever you completed an absorption ritual. Although there is a considerable difference in the way we will pass of our knowledge unto you."  
  
Harry's eyebrows rose slightly as he said, "May I ask what you mean by 'considerable difference?'"  
  
Eleanora spoke now. "They will be far harder on you; you will be receiving the information in the form of memories, as if you were a student of ours, rather then remembering the words from a book. Each time you receive knowledge this way, it will put a drain on your magical core. This cannot be achieved without the sacrifice of energy, and using that much of your magic cannot be done without causing pain to one as young as you." She looked sadly at him for a moment and said, "I am sorry, but there is no other way. There are positives, though—using that much magic regularly, with appropriate periods of restoration, will strengthen your core and you will develop much faster than the unlocking rituals you have already performed."  
  
Morgus put in quietly, "Without the chance of negative long term effects, as with typical rituals of this kind."  
  
Harry paused for a moment, considering what he was just told. "I understand. I thank you for your cautions. Are you able to advise me in what directions I should begin?"  
  
"We can advise you some, yes." Horatio spoke now. "The next step will be a bit like the memory transfer. The difference would be that we would be looking at your general strengths and weaknesses, and any abilities that still lie dormant."  
  
"Also taken into much consideration is the task that lies before you, as well as the forces against you," Morgus added.  
  
He continued, "This will not be painful, nor will it be harmful in any way. You may feel a slight tingling sensation through out your body." He smiled now and said, "Try not to wiggle about too much."  
  
Harry smiled slightly and said with a nod, "I am ready to begin."  
  
The three nodded, and it was as they said—there was no pain. It felt almost as if a hundred feathers were caressing his entire body. Harry became slightly alarmed then, as he was getting. . . aroused. The sensation was driving him mad. He felt the blush rise upon his face as he realized he was sitting directly in front of a woman. The men in the room didn't help much either. He chanced a glance at the two men, who obviously knew this would occur, as they were struggling—none too effectively, he thought—to control their faces. He fought to keep still, and struggled to think of the most unattractive thoughts he could.  
  
'Aunt Marge in a string bikini,' he thought frantically.  
  
'No help!'  
  
He tried to picture himself kissing a man. 'No DAMMIT!' The picture in his head quickly turned into Ginny. It stayed there for several long minutes before he fought away from the thoughts. The result was that his thoughts alternated to every girl he had ever found remotely attractive. When it fell upon Hermione...  
  
'She's like your sister, you freak!' he screamed at himself.  
  
'A very attractive sister though. . . stop that you GIT!'  
  
Harry took several deep breaths and tried to clear his mind, as he had trained for with Occlumency. It worked to a small extent. He chanced a look down, and thankfully his crossed legs and robes obscured most of his embarrassment, but he felt his cheeks burning red.  
  
After another minute it was thankfully over with, but he was certain that Aunt Marge in a bikini would be in every nightmare he had for the rest of his life.  
  
Morgus spoke first, and he did a poor job of hiding the amusement in his voice. "You did very well; most are unable to stop themselves from moving in their seat for more then the first minute of the scan."  
  
Harry shot him a dirty look which only caused the two wizards to totally break down, tears of laughter streaming down there faces. He chanced a look at Eleanora who was doing an admirable job of pretending to be politely puzzled. But she gave herself away, as the corners of her lips twitched almost continuously.  
  
She finally mastered her face and cleared her throat loudly, hoping to calm her companions. She said, "It is as we thought. Your adult strengths are awakening, and rather quickly. Your recent use of large amounts of magic is speeding the process. It would be my estimation that you are now equal is raw magic to a fully developed adult wizard of slightly above average power. As I said earlier though, as you train your levels will continue to rise quickly."  
  
Morgus spoke next. "We see that you have begun your utilize your Sensing skill, though whoever is training you in this method may not be the most experienced in it himself."  
  
Harry interrupted. "I've been teaching myself."  
  
"Ah, I see. Well, we can show you better methods—techniques and styles as well as magical objects you can create to aid in your development. I also noticed your mental defenses, and I see some residual damage to your aura from previous attacks." At Harry's startled look he quickly continued, "Nothing permanent, I assure you, but it seems that much of the damage was due to close-range mental attacks...not of the attacks you have shown us that come through the link with this Voldemort."  
  
Harry thought back to the evenings spent locked in Snape's dungeon, and without really considering it fully, he passed the memories along to the tribunal.  
  
They were silent again for several minutes, watching the combined days of memories, till Horatio roared out angrily, "Damn bloody fool! Idiot! He could have done you serious harm, Harry! Didn't he realize he wasn't attacking a full grown adult, but a boy with little experience?!?"  
  
Eleanor put a calming hand on Horatio's arm, and said to Harry in a kind voice, "Your conscious defenses are adequate right now, and your dreams seem to be defended well enough. We could of course work on that immediately if you wish it."  
  
Harry sat considering it for a while, when Morgus spoke. "You do not have to decide yet. We will discuss other fields first—for instance you have many latent talents, one being the healing touch. Though it is the longest of all studies, in war it is a much-needed skill."  
  
"You should also realize that many talents and skills overlap." She paused at his uncertain look and continued, "For instance, using your general sensing ability for medical purposes. The techniques for both are very similar, and it is a very useful asset. Our methods of scanning go deeper than any other of their type, and because you already have use of your raw magic abilities we should be able to teach you some general, but potent healing skills, without too much strain on you."  
  
Horatio spoke now. "What is your goal, boy, your immediate goal? We know what the Fates will ask of you eventually, but what is it you need right now?"  
  
Harry didn't pause. "To stay alive and keep the people around me alive so I can finish my task."  
  
Horatio smiled now. "Excellent. Precisely, you must stay alive. From the memories of your last battle, we see that you are something of a duelist. With whom have you been training with?"  
  
"At the beginning of the summer holidays I was able to acquire six Orbs of Onuris. I've been studying spells myself, mostly from the ancient Aurors. Recently I've been training with four of the orbs, three set at novice and one at moderate."  
  
Horatio was nodding in approval. "It's good you have them. Getting six must have been very difficult, but in the end they will make your training much easier, though no battle orb can compare against dueling a master."  
  
Eleanora broke in now. "I wonder though, why is it you chose to train using four, as opposed to one more powerful construct?"  
  
Horatio and Morgus both nodded, and he replied, "Well, his Death Eaters, as he calls them, hardly ever work alone. They want me very badly, and I keep escaping so I figure the next time they come after me, there will be more than just the three I faced this past week."  
  
Horatio snorted. "These so called Death Eaters. . . filth and scum, hiding behind masks. . . evil filth, some things never change." He sighed, then continued, "So we will teach you to duel. To duel in the way that made us the most feared warriors on any field of battle. You will learn the Dance of the Warrior."  
  
Harry nodded; this is what he most needed to learn.  
  
"You know enough spells to keep you out of trouble for a time. We will teach you more, but the dance itself is most important. It will be weeks before you will be able to train against four orbs again. You will learn our Forms; this is the basis of our battle style. It is the basis for dueling with wands and swords, as well as daggers and hand to hand. You will train with them all. At the onset it will be your greatest hurtle. Training and strengthening your body, mind and magic, training it to move and work together—do this and you will be able to face all six of your orbs without breaking a good sweat,"  
  
Morgus cut in. "As you train our forms you will be training your magic, mind, and body to work together, you will find that the memories you receive from us will be more easily assimilated during those times."  
  
He paused, looked hard at Harry, and said, "Will you learn?"  
  
He stood and replied in a clear, strong voice. "I am ready. I will learn, and I will win,"  
  
The trio stood with him and smiled.

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	7. Forms

Chapter Seven: Forms  
  
He stood in the center of his trunk's chamber. All the furniture was either Banished or stacked up in one corner. He wore no jeans under his robes now; he needed the freedom of movement. He stood on the balls of his feet, spread slightly wider than shoulder width apart. Knees bent slightly, back straight, hands before his chest, palms tightly together, elbows rigidly out. He almost looked as if he was praying, except for the dim, prism-like light coming from between his hands.  
  
Very slowly, Harry was pushing all thought from his head, at the same time pushing his magic to the surface. This was the last time he could go through the Forms before the twins showed up. This was the sixth time he was starting them. He hadn't been able to get more then halfway through before falling badly enough to break the trance, and the almost half he had completed was as ungraceful as ever. Even through they were awkward and uncompleted, they were taking there toll on him. His muscles were getting tired, and he had a hollow ache deep within his chest.  
  
'My magic must be getting a real workout,' he thought, very pleased in spite of his weariness.  
  
The weariness was nothing, though, compared to what was in his mind after a failed attempt. Throughout the Forms and some a bit after his mind was accessing memories, ones he didn't have before. Some he didn't understand yet—advanced magics of different sorts—but with others...He remembered being in a high-walled courtyard with Eleanora. They were standing together, him with his back to her front. He was focusing his mind, readying himself to begin. She was already prepared, standing rather close behind him, speaking to him in a soft, serene voice. Encouraging him, guiding him through each motion of the Forms, showing his mind, magic, and body how to move and work together.  
  
Or perhaps he was out in a lovely open meadow, sun high and bright, birds singing in a nearby tree. He was standing next to a rough wooden table with Horatio, the table loaded down with weapons. They ranged from short swords to rapiers to broad swords to battle axes. There were knives of many types, from throwing to dueling, from small little assassin's dirks to long, heavy, battle daggers. They spoke of weapons and tactics. They talked of knowing one's limits and seeing enemies' weak points, and what tools to use to achieve the kill. Finally Harry chose the weapons would study.  
  
But then again, maybe he remembered being in a high, round, tower room, surrounded by cauldrons and scales, and the room filled with all manner of potions apparatus. He remembered having long discussions with Morgus, who was working and brewing right next to him. They spoke of potions with causes and effects of which Harry had never heard. Some potions had been replaced by newer ones, many of which were far less effective, forsaken because witches and wizards had become lazy.  
  
Or could it have been the four of them, sitting cross-legged on large cushions in a dark room, lit only by a few sparse candles? Sending their minds out together, the three masters showed him the proper basis for scanning, and the proper groundings as to not to be overwhelmed. They spoke quietly of the differences between normal Sensing and the skills used in magical medicine. They showed him tools to aid him, and to protect him. They showed him the things he would need and how to create them.  
  
It began:  
  
His wand arm was crossing his chest, the tip just above his left shoulder; it dropped as he began spinning slowing to his right. At the end of the spin his wand slashed out, as if launching a curse.  
  
He half spun again, to the left now, going to a knee in one motion, raising his wand in defense.  
  
Rolling forward, heels over his head, his wand slashed upwards as if it were a sword.  
  
He launched himself forward into the air, spinning and slashing.  
  
He landed badly—not enough to break the trance, but it was a close thing. He spun and slashed, rolled and lunged. It was awkward, not the pretty, graceful Forms he was shown by Eleanora, but it was a beginning. After several more moments that prism light could be seen radiating from parts of his body. Dim, very dim, but it was the first signs of his body and magic working together.  
  
He lasted for less time than his previous attempt. Harry's weariness caused him to fall while he was attempting a back jump and spin, well before the midway point. He landed a bit better than he thought he would, as he sat back on his heels, trying to regain his breath. Body, minds and magic were so weary, but he felt accountably good. After a few minutes his breathing evened out, he was able to rise shakily and make his way out of the trunk.  
  
Stretching, showering, and completely covering himself with a healthy dose of the unguent, he dressed in black on black, jeans and a tee. He proceeded down to the kitchen for a butterbeer to await the twins' arrival.  
  
As it happened he didn't have very long to wait. Upon his last swallow he heard two distinctive pops coming from the living room. He heard a familiar happy voice calling up the stairs, "Oi, Potter! Shouldn't you be down here awaiting our arrival with bated breath?"  
  
The trio exchanged exuberant greetings, with typical cracks about Harry not finding enough trouble at school and going looking for Death Eaters during the summer holiday too. It seemed that Mrs. Weasley had packed them an enormous dinner, and the three ate with fervor, along with drinking several pitchers of butterbeer. Harry matched the twins voracious appetites bite for bite. Seems his training was giving him a huge appetite.  
  
There wasn't much talking during the meal. The only sounds that could be heard were those of three young men gorging themselves as only three young men could do whenever a woman wasn't present.  
  
'We're bloody disgusting,' Harry thought with a chuckle.  
  
"Damn Harry, you're sure putting it away tonight," said Fred with a laugh.  
  
"Yeah, and after we promised Mum we'd make sure you ate, even if we had to tie you down and force-feed you," George continued in a disappointed voice.  
  
"We were looking forward to it, actually."  
  
"We even brought some new treats to test on you."  
  
"Oh yeah, I'd let that happen," Harry said laughingly.  
  
With some quick wand waving the three of them cleaned up the kitchen in minutes, the twins' eyes widening when Harry joined them in the cleanup. He quickly explained about his exemption for the underage wizardry laws.  
  
"We would've killed for one of those, even just a year ago. . ."  
  
"Bloody Boy-Who-Lived, always bloody gets everything so bloody easy," Fred said in an uncanny impersonation of Snape's sneering tone.  
  
Harry's mouth hung open for a second in shock, and then he broke up laughing.  
  
"Yeah, Harry, we hear you and Snapey have been getting along famously this summer. . . something about him writhing on the floor at your feet. . ." The twins were both laughing hard at the thought.  
  
Harry's look darkened a moment, and then he said in a hesitant voice, "Wish he would just get off my case, and leave me alone. . . Never misses a chance, that one. . ."  
  
They both noticed Harry's mood change. They had been warned of this, and both were hoping to keep his mood bright. He had always been a good friend to them—to the whole family really.  
  
"Well, Mr. Potter, shall we adjourn to the drawing room? We, that is, my most distinguished brother and I, need to discuss matters of business with you." Fred said this in a dead serious, clearly dignified voice that totally threw Harry for a moment.  
  
Harry became suspicious instantly. "Sure, but why in the drawing room?"  
  
George, seeing the suspicion, grinned. He replied in a condescending voice, "My dear Mr. Potter, you should know that the inner workings of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes are highly classified."  
  
Harry chuckled as the three made their way up to the drawing room; he was glad that they were going to talk shop business. For a split second he had thought they were going to start in on him about Ginny. He hadn't really considered what the Weasley sons would have to say about him escorting their little sister to the wedding. Hopefully the twins didn't know yet. But on Saturday he would have to face at least five of them.  
  
'Oh hell, what is Ron gonna say?' he thought in sudden horror.  
  
The thought quickly vanished for the moment as they all sat, the twins looking unusually serious. George spoke first. "Here, Harry, this is yours," he said, handing him several pieces of parchment.  
  
He took the parchments and unfolded them curiously. After a second: "B. . . but I didn't want this! You didn't have to do this, Fred, George. . ."  
  
The pair grinned at him. "We know, Harry, but fair is fair," said George.  
  
"We wouldn't be making boatloads of money without you, mate." This was Fred.  
  
"It's all settled, mate, you're one third owner!"  
  
"And no arguments! Or else. . ." This ended in a pair of evil grins.  
  
Harry sat for several moments in bemused silence, trying to express his jumbled thoughts, but Fred broke in first. "See, you're exactly the type of partner we appreciate." He grinned broadly. "The silent kind."  
  
This caused the three of them to laugh raucously. "All you have to do is tell us what to do with your share of the profits."  
  
"We already spoke to Bill, he said he'll deposit it in your vault, or if you want. he'll set up a new business account for you."  
  
It felt good to laugh—he laughed so little—but his thoughts were befuddled, till inspiration hit him. "Listen Fred, George, since you're insisting I take this, and I don't really want it..." He paused, forming his sentence. "I say we set up an account for charitable donations, under the business name as well as ours."  
The twins looked thoughtful. Harry was a bit nervous that the wouldn't like the idea of giving away the money that they worked so hard to make. "If you're sure, Harry. I mean, like we said, it's official—you're our partner, and it's your gold."  
  
"But it should go in your name only," said George.  
  
"No way!" Harry said forcibly. "You two are doing all the work; all I did was give you the start-up money."  
  
They were quietly contemplating this, when Harry said, "You know, this is how evil gits like Malfoy have things go their way, with contributions like this."  
  
The twins looked at him appreciatively. "You see Fred, this is why our dear Mr. Potter never made it as a prefect, bloody devious he is." George said this with pride.  
  
"Knew there was a reason we liked him," his twin replied.  
  
Harry smiled wryly, as Fred said, "You know there is one other thing. We're gonna be in a bit of trouble when you all go back to school."  
  
George continued, "Too true. Ron has been ruddy excellent with the customers, and Ginny comes in whenever it gets too insane."  
  
Fred sighed. "Yeah, we need a manager, someone we can trust."  
  
"We thought of Lee, first off. But he promised his da that he would work for him, getting their new store up and running," this was George.  
  
"Yeah, Harry, our esteemed and most silent partner, will thoust break thy silence, if thou hast any clue as to a witch or wizard that can help us in our time of need?" Fred finished in a tragic voice.  
  
Harry grinned at them; the answer came to him immediately. "Remus."  
  
The pair looked uncomfortable. They didn't seem to think much of the idea. He spoke before they could. "I know what you're thinking—he's a nice enough guy, a bit, boring maybe, stodgy about rules and all, especially for a joke shop, but listen to my reasons before you say anything."  
  
Harry thought about it for a minute before stating his first reason. "First off, you two are always inventing, right?" They both nodded. "Well he's bloody brilliant, trust me. When you get stuck he'll come up with something, and chances are he'll come up with a legal way of doing it."  
  
They nodded slowly again, then grinned, but didn't look convinced yet.  
  
"Two, he's honest, and I trust him, something I couldn't say about many people. There aren't many outside of your lot's house really." He lost his thread for a moment, then picked it up again. "You could leave him in charge without a problem."  
  
The twins nodded a little more enthusiastically now.  
  
He started again with a small grin, "Well, there is the fact that the three of us owe him big time."  
  
Now they looked at him completely confused. George spoke first, "Harry, he was one of the best teachers we had at Hogwarts, but we really don't owe him. . ." He looked slightly uncomfortable.  
  
Harry repressed a smile. Well, sort of—his lips were twitching. He leaned a bit closer to them and said with one raised eyebrow, "Oh, didn't you two once tell me you would've been expelled if not for Mr. Mooney?"  
  
Harry started laughing at their open-mouthed expressions, "You mean. . ." Fred said in awe.  
  
Harry stopped laughing, and said with a soft smile, "And I'm sure Mr. Prongs and Mr. Padfoot would have no problems with me speaking for them. They would tell you the same, Remus would be brilliant."  
  
"Harry, you actually know who Prongs and Padfoot are?" It was George now using the awed voice.  
  
Harry nodded, and still with the soft smile that was a bit sadder now, he said, "You two remember seeing my Patronis in the D.A.?"  
  
The both nodded in confusion. "Yeah Harry, but what was that. . ."  
  
Harry cut him off. "You know Remus taught me the charm. He was shocked when he saw it, said it looked just like my dad when he transformed."  
  
"Wow, Harry, I didn't know your dad was an Animagus. . ." This was Fred.  
  
George cut him off. "MR. PRONGS!!!"  
  
His smile widened a bit.  
  
Fred now, "Wait a minute, and Sirius was a dog Animagus. . . PADFOOT!"  
  
Harry was laughing again at the looks of awe on his friends' faces. "Now, do you think one of the Marauders isn't good enough to work in the shop?"  
  
They both shook their heads, still seemingly trying to wrap their minds around this new information. "And besides, what's funnier than a werewolf at a joke shop!"  
  
The three completely broke up laughing now. After a few moments the laughter subsided and George said, "You know, Dumbledore was hoping to get another Order member in Diagon Alley." He stopped abruptly. "Sorry, Harry, shouldn't have said that, you know Order business and all."  
  
"Yeah, now that we're members Mum threatened us with a hundred deaths if we told you lot anything, especially after last year. . ." Fred broke off now, looking uncomfortable.  
  
"That's all right, mates, I realized that I don't need the Order to tell me things. The Death Eaters will come back for me eventually," he said again with a sad smile.  
  
George thought to lighten the mood, asked brightly, "What about Mr. Wormtail?" he asked enthusiastically.  
  
Neither one of the twins ever saw Harry as they saw him now. This was the Harry Potter that stood alone against three Death Eaters. The same boy that fought a dark wizard, and won, in his first year of school. They saw the wizard that was almost family, with murder in his eyes.  
  
They never heard this voice from Harry either, even when he spoke of the most hated Potions Master; this was a voice of pure hatred. "When I get my hands on Pettigrew I will deal with him personally."  
  
"Now I understand," Fred said softly.  
  
"Yeah, all the conversations we only half listened to," continued his brother.  
  
"Surprised you two never cornered Ron for all the gory details. . ." Harry said in a distant voice.  
  
The sat in uncomfortable silence for a time, each deep in thought. Soon after they prepared to say goodnight. It was still quite early, but Mrs. Weasley insisted that Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were much too young to stay at the shop all alone, so she had joined them. The twins were in a panic at the thought of their mum shooing paying customers out, saying they were too young for all the dangerous rubbish. They Apparated out, telling Harry that they would speak to Remus about the job opening when he returned on Friday afternoon.  
  
Harry had just pulled out parchment, ink and quills, when the pair Apparated right back where they had just left from. Harry looked at them, eyebrows raised.  
  
"We almost forgot. . ." George started.  
  
"Yes we did. We know you're escorting Ginny on Saturday. . ." Fred continued.  
  
"Just a friendly warning between mates. . ."  
  
"You might be able to out-duel the both of us, Mr. Potter. . ."  
  
"But you hurt our little sister in any way. . ."  
  
"We will get even. . ."  
  
The pair gave him identical evil grins as the both left again.  
  
Harry had to chuckle, but it stopped abruptly as he thought what it would be like to have a practical joke vendetta waged against him by the twins.  
  
'Might be safer to face the Death Eaters again,' he thought, as he began to pen a letter to little Annabelle.  
  
Once he had finished it, he attached it to the box of treats the twins had brought over. He first checked to make sure there wasn't anything dangerous inside, and then prepared it so Hedwig could deliver it in the morning.  
  
He leaned back in his chair and let his mind wander. He drifted from topic to topic for a while till it settled again on the Ministry hearing. He made a quick decision and ran up to his room, returning several minutes later carrying his stone Pensive. He settled back into his chair, withdrew his wand and brought up the memories of the trial. Raising his wand up to the side of his head, he drew it away with a thick silvery thought hanging from the end of it, which he deposited. He leaned forward, touching the quick silver surface of his memories and dropped inside.  
  
Harry emerged from the stone basin nearly forty-five minutes later (he had skipped the parts of the trial he wasn't actively involved with), now even more dumbfounded.  
  
"That can't have been me out there. . . Could it?" he said in a low, bewildered voice.  
  
He sat there for a few minutes, thinking hard, 'Ok, it couldn't have been the Imperious Curse; I do well against those. . . It had to be me. . .' 'Damn, I looked like. . . like a young Dumbledore or something...' 'When the hell do I even sit like that. . .?'  
  
Harry chanced a look down and saw he was sitting exactly that way without even realizing it. With a start, he quickly rose from the chair. His mouth had gone dry and he decided it might be a good time for a butterbeer.  
  
Harry sat in the kitchen, drinking his butterbeer, lost deep within his memories. He heard a whooshing sound and a small pop coming from the living room.  
  
"Harry. . . Harry, are you there?" Hermione's voice called out.  
  
Harry entered the living room to see her disembodied head amid a small crackling fire; she was looking all around herself with great curiosity.  
  
He grinned. "First time?"  
  
Her head snapped in his direction and gave him a smile. "Oh yes. You know, I've read all about the Floo network, but it's nothing like how they say, actually it's rather. . ."  
  
"Bloody uncomfortable," he said with a smirk.  
  
"Harry," she said in a reproving tone. "Language."  
  
"Sorry, Hermy," he said, still smirking.  
  
"Bloody hell, Potter, stop calling me that! You're just lucky I can't hex you right now. . ." she said in only partial mock outrage.  
  
He chuckled, but decided not to push it. "So, what's up?"  
  
"Well, Ginny told me you're sending her shopping for a wedding gift. She's going on Thursday, by the way. Well anyway, Mrs. Weasley is going with her. Ginny and I secretly think she's going just to make sure she doesn't spend too much money. Ginny wouldn't tell how much you gave her to spend." She grinned and he returned it.  
  
"Ginny and I shopped in Diagon alley for a bit today, so I really don't feel like going again, and Ron is going to be working all day that day. . .  
  
She seemed nervous now. "Well, I was wondering if we could hang out?"  
  
Harry grinned at her. "You're just dying to look at my books aren't you?"  
  
She blushed slightly, and said, "Not only that, Harry! We haven't spent any time alone in ages, and I think we've got loads to talk about." She gave him an odd smile.  
  
Harry gave her a true smile and said honestly, "I'd like that a lot, Hermione, I really would."  
  
She smiled broadly at the look on his face. "Wonderful. What time should I come by?"  
  
"Uh. . . how about around noon?"  
  
Her eyebrows rose. "Having a lie-in all summer, you lazy bum?"  
  
He gave her an offended look, and said in a lofty tone, "Hardly. . ." He couldn't keep the look up, though—he grinned and said, "I just have some work I need to do in the mornings, uh. . . work I need to do in private."  
  
Hermione's eyes widened slightly. He could see the unspoken question, the insatiable curiosity of his almost-sister. "Uh, listen I should get back to work. I'll see you Thursday."  
  
"Wait, don't go yet, Ginny wants to say goodnight," she said quickly.  
  
Hermione's head disappeared for a second, then returned. "Uh, she needs five minutes, she's finishing something for Mrs. Weasley."  
  
"Ok, I'll wait. 'Night. Hermione."  
  
"'Night, Harry!" Her head disappeared again, this time without returning.  
  
He sat down in one of the chairs, his thoughts returning to the trial, and how it had looked from another perspective.  
  
He remembered seeing Angelina. 'That felt normal. . . just seeing an old friend.'  
  
He thought about how he felt that day. 'Well, I was damn hurt. . . but I don't remember being all that nervous.'  
  
'I was nearly sick with nerves last time at the ministry. . . why not this time. . .'  
  
He thought about being accused of dark magic. 'Well, I remember being furious. . . couldn't tell from the outside though. . .'  
  
He was brought from his reverie by Ginny's bright voice. "Hi, Harry!"  
  
It took a second for him to respond. "Hi, Ginny. That was fast."  
  
"Uh, I was about to apologize for taking so long. It's been nearly fifteen minutes. You ok?" she asked tentatively.  
  
He quickly covered his bemused state, and replied brightly, "Oh yeah, I'm fine. I was just thinking."  
  
She looked at him closely for a moment, and then said in what sounded to be a hopeful voice, "Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
Harry answered quickly, too quickly. "No, Gin, it's fine. . ."  
  
He immediately saw a range of emotions cross her face. It went from disappointment, to hurt, and then to anger. 'I have to remember her temper can be as bad as mine. Well, maybe not that bad, but I didn't want to upset her.'  
  
'Maybe it would help to talk about it. . .' he thought uncertainly. He spoke before she could. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said no that quickly. I mean, I wasn't thinking about anything too important. I was just. . . just very confused. . ." He ended quietly, "I'm not really used to being able to just talk to anyone. . ."  
  
He gave her a grim smile and said, "After all, it is summer, and I'm used to having only owl post to talk to people."  
  
Ginny quickly realized that she had let a little hurt show on her face. She was annoyed with herself about that, but then again maybe it wasn't an entirely bad thing. Maybe she could get Harry to finally open up, even a tiny bit, but everyone had agreed that no one was to push him.  
  
She said very seriously, without looking at him, "Harry, I don't like it, I will admit that. But..." She sighed. "I do understand—only a small little bit, mind—but I do understand something of what you've been through, and I just want you to try and remember I'm here if you want to talk." Then, even more quietly, "I'll be here for you."  
  
She looked up at him and saw the oddest expression. He looked almost tearful, but he wore the softest little smile. She was sure now—she didn't know where it came from, but there was love in his eyes. She might just be a stupid girl sometimes, but she wasn't a total blockhead like Ron.  
  
"I was using my Pensieve a little while ago. I was reviewing the trial from the other day. . . I just couldn't understand why everyone is praising me,"  
  
Ginny was lost in her own thoughts when Harry starting telling her what was on his mind. She was so preoccupied that she thought she missed the beginning of what he had said. 'A Pensieve, what the hell is a Pensieve?' she thought, but did not want to interrupt him the first time he started to open up.  
  
"Then I saw myself. . . Who the hell was that sitting there?!? When am I ever that cool and collected? All I remember was trying, with all the willpower I had, not to whip out my wand and curse that slime bag who said I used dark magic."  
  
His rant went on for some time, with him pacing back and forth in front of the hearth, before he turned to her with a sheepish expression. "Sorry, Ginny, I didn't mean to rave at you, I'm just. . ."  
  
She smiled to tell him it was all right and said in an understanding voice, "You're confused, I understand that. We all understand that, I suppose. I'm sorry for saying it if it bothers you, but you were pretty amazing out there. . ."  
  
She saw him blushing now. She tried to ignore it, but didn't do very well. After all, this might be the first time he was blushing and she wasn't. She felt a little bad, but had to grin at him. This in turn caused him to blush just a bit more, and she smiled wider.  
  
'Why the hell am I blushing!!!' he thought frantically. He mumbled to her, "For a minute, when I first saw myself, I actually thought I was under the Imperious." He chuckled nervously.  
  
"Harry, we've all seen glimpses of you like that before," she said very seriously, "whether you want to believe it or not. You're growing up, I guess we all are growing up. . .Maybe it's too fast, too soon. . . but we don't have much choice, do we?"  
  
She continued, "You know we're all proud of you, Harry, you know that Sirius and your parents are proud of you, too, don't you?"  
  
She was looking deep into his eyes, and saw him flinch when she said his name. 'He's still holding it all in. He's still carrying all the blame, even after Dumbledore's talk with him." Her father had told her that Dumbledore took a large part of the responsibility, but it was obvious Harry wasn't buying into it.  
  
"Thanks, Gin," he said, not looking at her. "I should get back to work. . . uh, I guess I'll see you soon." He gave her a weak smile.  
  
She half-heartedly returned it, "Why don't you try to get some sleep, Harry? You have the rest of the summer to work."  
  
"Yeah, it's still early. Maybe I'll give it a try a little later. Goodnight, Ginny," he said, as he turned away from the fireplace.  
  
"Goodnight Harry," she said sadly.  
  
She was about to pull out of the fire when she heard, "Gin." He turned and said, "I really mean it, thanks."  
  
She smiled at him. "Remember, anytime." With that, she returned her head to the Burrow.  
  
Harry walked up the flight of stairs and reentered the drawing room. He paused at the door, and stared at the Pensieve for a few minutes, coming to a decision. He sat where he had earlier, drew his wand again, and deposited another memory. His last duel—he had been putting it off. 'Now is as good a time as any,' he thought, half-heartedly.  
  
At the Burrow, Ginny exited the fireplace to find almost every eye on her. Only her mother wasn't staring at her. Molly was pretending to be reading Witch Weekly, but Ginny could see her mum's eyes' twinkling and the smirk on her face. Her father and oldest brother looked almost like twins; both seemed to be struggling to keep a straight face. Hermione was smirking at her, eyebrows raised. She felt her face growing hot as Ron said laughingly, "Thought you were just gonna say goodnight?"  
  
Ginny's face grew bright red, and she stuttered slightly, "I. . . he. . . well, we were. . . I mean. . ."  
  
That was about all Mr. Weasley and Bill could take, laughter erupting from the two. Hermione turned to look out the window, but Ginny saw her friend only trying not to embarrass her more. Ron just stood there laughing at her embarrassment, till Ginny glared at him, then pointedly glared at Hermione's back. Ron understood the unspoken threat, the laughter and smile quickly fading.  
  
She next turned to Bill, who was laughing harder after seeing Ron crumble under threat. He smirked at her with raised eyebrows, as he felt she could have nothing to threaten him with.  
  
Ginny turned to her mother and said, very sweetly, "Mum, do you think I should show Fleur where Bill hides his old love letters?"  
  
Bills face was caught between laughter and shock. After a moment he was still grinning broadly and gave her an appreciative nod.  
  
By this time Mr. Weasley had fought his own laughter down, but the struggle was causing him to cry from mirth. "Sorry, pumpkin, it's just. . ." and he broke up with laughter again. "You get more and more like your mother every day."  
  
"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley cried indignantly.  
  
Mr. Weasley mastered himself enough to say, "Sorry, Molly dear," but ruined it by nearly falling off the chair, laughing hysterically. This time, though, everyone there joined him, including Ginny and Mrs. Weasley.  
  
After a few minutes everyone calmed down and Ginny said, "Dad, do you know what a Pensieve is?"  
  
Mr. Weasley's eyes turned to her curiously. "Yes, Gin-Gin, why do you ask?"  
  
Ginny ignored being called her baby name yet again and said, "Just something Harry mentioned." She wasn't about to tell what Harry had just said. It was private and he had opened up to her for the first time—not much, but it was a start.  
  
"Oh, he must've been talking about Professor Dumbledore's," Hermione put in.  
  
Thankfully Hermione mentioning that Dumbledore had a Pensieve got her off the hook from being questioned as to why she mentioned it. Hermione had some general information about Pensieves and so did her father, but it seemed that Bill knew the most about it. He spoke in great detail about them, from origins to practical applications. She forgot how really brilliant her oldest brother actually was—brilliant, and yet he could still be sweet and funny.  
  
'Wonder why Percy could never even come close to managing that,' she thought, annoyed.  
  
Ginny felt a bit unsettled and also slightly intrigued about something that could take away a memory from a witch, at least until she looked at it from the other point of view. She supposed it could be a useful tool. Maybe it might help her with her own little problem. Then she thought about Harry using it, though. He had so many bad memories, so many terrifying memories. From what Dad and Bill said, the thing must've cost him a fortune. What else would he use it for? She had to think about this before she spoke to him. She said her goodnights and went up to bed.  
  
Harry emerged from the Pensieve almost two hours later. He had watched the duel countless times, observing from every angle. He looked for mistakes and lost opportunities. The only part of the duel that went better than expected was using the tree, but being honest with himself, he knew it was a spur of the moment idea. Whilst he was watching the duel unfold, memories of Horatio came back to him.  
  
"Remember boy, remember where you are, and what you're doing," the growling voice said. If you're not fighting a duel for honor alone and you're outnumbered, you need every advantage you can get or, more importantly, give yourself."  
  
'Ok, so the tree was a perfect example, like Dumbledore using the statues, but could I have done more?' That was the thought that was plaguing him.  
  
He paced the drawing room now, ideas flashing though his mind faster than he could fully comprehend them all. Some were his own original ideas and some were memories that he had never had. At some point he summoned parchment, ink and quill. He jotted down things that he thought warranted studying. At the same time he began to write himself a shopping list. He went back and forth between the two parchments for quite some time. He also wrote out a quick order for Snuffles to take to the apothecary. When no new ideas came to him he sat down heavily. For a moment he was so tired, all he could think of was sleep. Sleep hasn't come easy for him for a long time though—unpleasant dreams plagued him. Luckily, most of the time he didn't remember them. The few times he had remembered parts, but he hoped to forget them as soon as possible. Some of the images came back to him now, and he reacted to them as he had since they began.  
  
Drawing his wand, he muttered, "Accio book." Soon the ancient, black-bound book came sailing into the room, straight into his hands.  
He unlatched the heavy metal clasps and opened it. He went past the page with the little window and began to leaf through the pages. Now that he was initiated into the book the pages became filled with the subjects of the many memory transfer rituals. He could choose from the pages the rituals he would like to pursue, though he could always go back to the tribunal if he ever needed to speak to the three for advice. The memory transfer he had performed earlier in the day was a level three ritual. Basically, a level three ritual was approximately three level one rituals. Some subjects weren't that involved that they needed more than one level one ritual or perhaps a level two to complete the knowledge, and the rest of the subject he would study by himself. The level three he had done this morning had been exhausting. The pain had been incredible, something like a sustained low-grade Crucio. He pushed the thought of the fact that he had many more of his main study rituals to go before he was complete. Doing only one main a day would take more than a year to complete those studies.  
  
Harry's plan was to do the heaviest rituals in the morning before his Forms, then one or two minor ones in the evenings before returning to his evening training. He would fit in his other studies whenever he could. He looked through the subjects now; some of the titles had unknown meanings. He wanted to try to tie in the ideas he got from watching the duel. After some time he decided on one level two, dealing with magic in the field of Herbological spells. He saw in the Pensieve that the three Death Eaters had been standing in rather tall grass, with lots of small shrubbery around. He wondered if that could have been used to his advantage.  
  
He went through the rituals, then through the Forms. He only emerged from his trunk when he could no longer stand steadily. He had barely the strength to undress and cover himself in the unguent before falling dead asleep.

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	8. Letter from the Dead

Chapter Eight: Letter from the dead  
  
Harry woke with a start. He was drenched in cold sweat, tears streaming down his face. The images of last night's dreams were still with him. He remembered them—mornings were always worse when he remembered them. He watched Cedric die again, then Sirius falling through the archway. He saw Ginny lying near death in the Chamber of Secrets. He saw Ron unconscious on the huge chess board. Hermione barely alive, seriously, perhaps fatally wounded at the ministry. Then there were images that weren't memories. There was Mrs. Weasley kneeling; crying over the obviously dead forms of her husband and children. He saw Ginny lying facedown in a pool of blood, her fiery red hair matted and lank. He saw everyone he knew, everyone he cared about, dead. Blood everywhere, so much blood. With him, the famous Harry Potter, the only survivor in the midst of all that death. The feeling of it being a premonition rather than his imagination took his breath away and made him want to scream in rage and anguish.  
  
He forcibly wiped the tears from his face with the back of his hand. He sat up, leaning on the headboard and began to do what he'd done for the past several weeks after every nightmare. Harry began an unusual type of scan. He was scanning his unconscious defenses. Part of his preparation for his defense was to imagine a high strong wall enveloping his mind. He chose the walls to be made of the same stuff that Hogwarts was made out of—centuries- old and weather-smoothed stone and what it represented, safety. He charged the wall with his own magic making it secure, or so he hoped. He let his thoughts wander the inside of the wall, searching high and low looking for damage. Harry searched for any evidence of these dreams coming from outside influences rather than from within. After several minutes he concluded his search. This wasn't Voldemort's doing; these dreams came from his own mind. Perhaps this was his punishment, punishment for his many mistakes and his own weaknesses.  
  
He squeezed the bridge of his nose, as if this would banish the images and thoughts still flashing through his mind. Harry gave himself a little shake, and then reached for his glasses on the bedside table. He noticed now that the sun had yet to make its daily appearance. He reached for his watch and saw he had been asleep for less than three hours. He rose from bed gingerly, not knowing how much his training had taken out of him. He was surprised that his muscles only felt just slightly weary. The unguent had worked yet again. He stretched his body a little bit before grabbing his dressing gown and heading to the kitchen for a spot of tea.  
  
He returned to his room after ten minutes or so. Breakfast really had no allure this early in the morning. He walked over to the desk chair and settled himself in it. Part of the training he was doing entailed a certain amount of daily meditation to allow his mind and new memories to become more easily acquainted. He recalled much of the memories he received last night whilst doing his evening Forms. He was fairly disappointed to find that he studied a topic that, while interesting, was completely useless in a duel. Apparently conjuring ordinary plants and flowers was fairly simple, though transfiguring the same was extremely difficult and it seemed the Order of the Light did little work in this field. It did make sense. If you were outside there tended to be rocks or pebbles, so why try to do a much more difficult spell? Also, the need to conjure certain rarer plants wasn't really useful. He would have to see about getting some advanced Transfiguration texts and looking into it on his own.  
  
He sat in his meditation for nearly three quarters of an hour. He rose, thinking about all the knowledge he could easily access. He drew his wand to test his new knowledge.  
  
"Rosaleous"  
  
A bunch of roses appeared from the end of his wand. He was attempting to get them the same color as Ginny's hair. It didn't quite work out that way. These roses, while perfect in beauty and smell were a deep blood red. It took several more attempts before he achieved the desired shade. His desk was now covered with roses of different reddish hues and one bunch that came out a violent shade of yellow. He chuckled to himself and decided to leave them. They smelled wonderful. The room still had a bit of a musty smell and they would help with that. They would last less than twenty-four hours; maybe he would try a different flower tomorrow morning.  
  
The sun was just making itself known as he called down the stairs for his pair of snowy owls. They came swooping into the room a moment later and both landed lightly on the desk, as Falcore was taking up most of the small owl perch. He walked over to Snuffles and attached the order he wrote last night for him to take to the apothecary. After tying it, he held out his arm, and Snuffles hopped up.  
  
Hedwig thought she would join her snowy friend and made to hop up on Harry's arm. "Sorry, Hedwig, I'm going to need you for a special delivery a little later on," he said.  
  
Hedwig puffed up her little chest when she heard the inflection on the word special, and gave him a soft hoot.  
  
Harry laughed silently as he thought to himself how easy it was for him to understand Hedwig these days. He knew that if he didn't make it sound that she was going on the more important delivery later on she would be would be annoyed with him for one reason or another. 'Owl pride.' He chuckled out loud this time.  
  
He walked with Snuffles to the window and gave him a little boost into the air.  
  
Before he leapt down into the trunk he aimed a simple locking charm on the door and returned to his training grounds. Flicking his wand, the table and one chair appeared in their customary place. He thought about going before the tribunal before starting the ritual—he had many questions that needed answers. It seemed that every day there were more questions, but he wanted some time to arrange his thoughts properly first.  
  
Harry emerged from the trunk several hours later breathing hard and sweating, but invigorated. Today's Forms went better than last night's. He was still awkward and hadn't completed a full set, but it was better. He reckoned he made it three quarters of the way through on his last attempt. That was when he decided to quit for the morning. It would take years for his body, his mind, and his magic to work in total unison, but he was happy with his progress so far. He took a long shower. The hot water felt wonderful on his body. He thought about his new knowledge for a bit. Much of it was a still a mystery, but he remembered a spell or two that he would have to train with. He made a mental note to add a few things to the shopping list he had started the night before.  
  
Harry couldn't begin to train using a sword or blades till he completed a full set of tranced Forms. The forms were the basis of all the fighting he would study; though he wouldn't be in a trance state the motions were similar.  
  
After he dressed he felt famished. He went down to the kitchen deep in thought about magic of one sort or another. Even after his disturbing dreams the physical exertion improved his mental state. He entered the kitchen and again checked at the door. There were ten witches and wizards sitting around the large table, several conversations going on at once. It quieted when they realized Harry had walked in.  
  
"Morning, everyone." Harry looked to Dumbledore and said, with a slight smile, "Maybe we should think of putting up a sign, Harry, there's a meeting going on!"  
  
Dumbledore smiled slightly in return. "No matter, Harry, we were just about done. I see you slept better today."  
  
"Been working since dawn, sir."  
  
Dumbledore kept his gaze steady, and, frowning slightly, said, "If you would just give us a moment, there are several things you should know."  
  
One eyebrow rose in curiosity as he looked around the table. "Hello, Mr. Ollivander, good to see you," he said politely. He wasn't really surprised to see Ollivander there; Harry knew that he and Dumbledore were old friends.  
  
"Ah, Mr. Potter," Mr. Ollivander said in a soft voice. "Good to see you as well. Albus has told me that a Phoenix has joined with you a short time ago."  
  
"Uh, yeah, his name is Falcore." Harry wondered why this was a topic of conversation.  
  
Ollivander nodded, the pale eyes never leaving his, and said, "We will have to make arrangements in the future to harvest some of his feathers."  
  
Harry didn't speak for a moment. He stared hard at Ollivander before saying, "I will consider it."  
  
Mr. Ollivander was obviously surprised at Harry's less than enthusiastic reply when Dumbledore spoke. "Harry, it is a common practice. As you well know, Fawkes donated two."  
  
Harry responded quietly. "Yes, I know that very well, Headmaster. It is a great responsibility though, as you also well know. How much damage has the first one done up to now and the second has already done enough."  
  
Everyone at the table was watching this conversation, not really understanding why this was such an issue to Harry. Meanwhile Harry and Dumbledore's eyes never broke their gaze, as if each was trying to read the other's mind.  
  
Bill Weasley spoke up. "Who has the first?"  
  
Harry broke the gaze then. Looking at Bill, he said, "Voldemort."  
  
Harry was annoyed to see more then half the Order members flinch at the name. He was glad that Bill hadn't, though.  
  
Bill was looking hard at Harry now. "And the second?"  
  
Harry returned the look and said quietly, "Me."  
  
Bill's eyebrows rose. He seemed to be thinking hard about this. Giving Harry a slight nod, then looked away.  
  
While everyone was finishing the meeting, Harry busied himself with fixing his breakfast. By the time he sat down with his plate in front of him with today's Prophet to one side, most of the members had left. Remaining were Dumbledore, Moody, Tonks, Bill, and (to his great displeasure) Snape.  
  
Harry had only taken a few bites when Dumbledore said, "I received a message from Mrs. Figg last evening.  
  
Harry looked up and gave him a questioning look. "It seems that your family has left Private Drive, quite quickly I might add. They left no forwarding address and said nothing about it to the neighbors." Harry had snorted when Dumbledore called them his family, and then said with an evil grin, "Cowards. I told Vernon that I led Bellatrix to believe he had had second thoughts and had tipped me off as to the trap."  
  
Moody laughed, slapping his hand on the table. Tonks and Bill looked like they were having trouble trying to keep a straight face. He was ignoring whatever Snape was doing, but Dumbledore was giving him a supremely disapproving look. Harry ignored the look and continued to eat.  
  
After a moment Dumbledore spoke again. "Also, Madame Pomfrey was questioned as to your whereabouts."  
  
Harry looked up again, all traces of smile gone now; they all heard the anxiety in his voice. "Damn. . . I knew I shouldn't have gone to St. Mungo's. Is she all right?"  
  
"Yes, Harry, she is fine. She was questioned by a superior at the hospital, but it was done very casually, almost as if it was simply curiosity—though after a time he became rather insistent. Poppy thought it very odd. Although this wizard is a superior, he has nothing to do with the section of the hospital in which she works."  
  
Harry nodded. "Well I gave her no info which she could let slip. . . I didn't want to put her in any sort of danger though. . ." He looked over at Tonks.  
  
She said without hesitation, "Kingsley already has the Aurors keeping an eye on him, don't worry, Harry." She gave him a reassuring smile and he nodded in reply.  
  
Before Harry was able to take another bite, Snape's cold voice said, "You don't seem much surprised that someone was inquiring as to your location, Potter."  
  
He looked at him for the first time today and replied in a level voice, "Isn't it obvious they want me more now than they did a few days ago?"  
  
Bill frowned slightly and asked, "Why would you say they want you more now?"  
  
"Look in the papers," he said, tapping the copy underneath his hand. "Every witch or wizard who speaks out against the dark is using my name as a rallying point."  
  
He looked down at the paper and read a line from the article he was reading. "Potter has shown us that He Who Must Not Be Named and his followers can be fought, and can be conquered! Voldemort wants to eliminate all hope, some people see me as that hope," he finished simply.  
  
He looked over to the adults at the other side of the table; each was looking at him in their own way. Dumbledore gave him a soft nod of approval, Tonks was giving him a proud smile, and Bill a thoughtful one. Only Snape had a look of disgust, a look that said quite clearly, 'Potter is showing off again.'  
  
Again he was about to take a bite when the cold voice spoke again, "You do think a lot of yourself Potter, a great hope, rallying point, like some great leader. Ha!"  
  
Harry saw Tonks glaring at Snape and Moody was looking at him in disgust. Bill looked to be struggling with the Weasley temper—Harry saw his wand hand twitch once as if to just go for it. Dumbledore looked nonplussed though, as if he were waiting to see what Harry did before he responded. Harry spoke first, cutting off the tirade he felt Bill was building up to. To Harry this was the least of the things his Potions Master had said to him in the past. "I can not help what people think. If you expect me to hide from the filth which were your former cohorts forever, you are quite mad."  
  
Snape was looking angrier by the second.  
  
"Speaking of your former brethren, what about our great spy? Shouldn't you have known about the attack or the fact that the search is on again?" Harry said coldly. "Or did you hope to get me out of the way?"  
  
Snape was sputtering to come out with an answer as Harry glared at him. Dumbledore spoke first though, in a stern voice. "Harry, you cannot expect Professor Snape to find out all of Voldemort's plans. He does a most difficult and dangerous job for us."  
  
Harry's glare returned to the Headmaster. "I assure you I expect next to nothing from the Potions Master, sir, let alone anything helpful."  
  
Snape snapped up as if to attack, his face twisted into a sneer. Bill followed suit, his chair flying back, his wand hand ready to draw, his eyes fixed on Snape. Harry didn't fall for Snape's bait though. Snape was trying to make him overreact, to make the first move. Not this time, though.  
  
'Control. . . Stay in control. . .' he chanted to himself. It would be so easy to let his rage fly; it would be so easy for him to attack right now.  
  
Harry looked up at Snape with a sneer of his own. "Can I help you with something, Potions Master?" The more Harry used that title the more scathing it came out. Like it was a great insult—and in his mind, it was.  
  
'Professor is a term of respect,' he thought. 'Learned next to nothing from him.'  
  
Snape grumbled something and stormed from the room. 'Him leaving the room like that was almost as good as cursing him.' But then he thought about it and reconsidered. 'No, not even close!'  
  
Harry heard the front door open and some words he couldn't make out. In a moment Professor McGonagall entered.  
  
Everyone gave her a tense, "'Morning."  
  
Harry looked over to Dumbledore as he started saying, "Harry, you and Professor Snape must. . ."  
  
Harry put his head down to the newspaper and pointedly ignored him. Next his Head of House began sputtering to him about respect or lack thereof. When he looked up again he saw her as well as Dumbledore glaring at him, but the funny thing was the rest of the Order members weren't. Actually they were all staring incredulously at Dumbledore.  
  
"If you choose to speak to Snape, and if you already have, when he responds to what you said to him, then I will be willing to listen to you on this topic. Until that time I will not cower like a child, I'm not the same first year he tormented years ago. I've already forced myself to take too many years of abuse at his hands," he paused staring hard at his headmaster, "so to speak."  
  
From the corner of his eye he saw Bill, Tonks, and Moody all looking at him with approval. Harry was rather proud of himself at that moment, too. He had made his point without loosing his temper and saying something incredibly stupid, for a change.  
  
Before Dumbledore could continue, several owls flew in from the kitchen fireplace. In the lead was his own, Snuffles.  
  
"Hello there, boy," he said, stroking the feathery white head After untying the leather thong and passing over half a piece of toast he opened the largest of the small sacks that had been delivered. Taking a pinch of the dried flowers out with two fingers and bringing it to his nose for a sniff, he muttered, "Lousy quality for that price."  
  
"Monkshood, Harry? Do you plan on attempting the Wolf's Bane potion next?"  
  
"Yes sir," he muttered.  
  
"A very difficult potion." Dumbledore seemed to be trying to get past the conversation they had been having.  
  
Harry nodded absently. "Trying to find my limits." He cringed inside with his choice of words. Usually that was a term older wizards used for a rather dangerous procedure in which they almost totally drained themselves of magical energies. The result they were looking for was to see how many spells could be cast without rest. The dangerous part being, if they went too far it could kill the witch/wizard. Just one more spell too many could be fatal. He avoided looking at Dumbledore and continued with his mail.  
  
Harry went to the next owl. He saw it was carrying this term's Hogwarts letter. He scanned it briefly before closing it up again.  
  
As he reached for the next letter Professor McGonagall spoke. "Ah, I see you received the O.W.L. results. For some reason they were delayed this year. We didn't even get the results at the school yet."  
  
'Great, talk about pressure. Opening the results in front of Dumbledore and McGonagall, just ruddy perfect,' he thought dispiritedly.  
  
Just as he worked up the nerve to open the heavy parchment envelope another owl swooped in and landed in front of him. It was a beautiful auburn owl, and it seemed to be wearing a woven golden band around its neck.  
  
"That's a Gringott's owl, Harry," Bill said.  
  
Harry, glad for the excuse to put off opening his O.W.L. results, reached for the letter. It was thick. There had to be many pages in it.  
  
The remaining Order members were watching Harry curiously. Especially Bill, since he worked at the Goblin bank; he usually kept an eye on the accounts of the people he knew. They all saw Harry's face pale, and the hand holding the letter began to tremble slightly.  
  
"Harry, are you all right? What's wrong?" This was Tonks, the concern evident in her voice.  
  
He didn't answer for a moment, his eyes fixed on the parchment in front of him. Finally he spoke, in a voice that trembled every so slightly. "It's from Sirius. . ."  
  
Silence met this pronouncement. Harry quickly collected all the post and absently said, as he left the room, "Please excuse me, I have some work to get to. . ."  
  
Harry ran up to his bedroom, locking the door behind him. Tears were forming in his eyes as he opened the letter and continued to read. The letter was several pages long, plus there were several pages from Gringott's about his inheritance. Not that he really cared about his share of the Black fortune. He read the letter quickly as his whole body began to tremble. Sirius telling him how proud he was of him and how sure he was that his parents were also. He spoke of how much he liked Harry's friends and how he might even be a better Quidditch player than his father. The kind words of pride were tearing him apart inside. He didn't know how long he sat there. He vaguely remembered Dumbledore outside the door, but Harry said he was fine and sent him away from behind the locked door.  
  
Feeling the hollow of despair inside him, Harry climbed down into his trunk again. He unpacked all six battle orbs, setting them all for novice. He set them in a semi-circle around him, and then walked over to the pictures on the wall. His gaze fixed on the picture of his parents and Sirius at the wedding, then to pictures of his friends. Images from his dreams began to resurface, but this time it wasn't despair he felt. In only a few moments anger began to take over in place of the emptiness of sorrow. In moments he was shaking now in rage. With a wave of his hand the six orbs initiated and the dueling began. He set the orbs so they wouldn't disappear completely when they were defeated, they would only fade for a few moments and then start attacking again.  
  
Harry didn't care about the pain; actually he was relishing it right now. He was lost in the battle, lost in the rage, the hate. He launched spell after spell, knocking them down again and again. Without thought he launched all the spells he had studied himself and the new ones he received through the memory transfers. Horatio was right, it seemed. He felt more awkward now that he had even a week ago, before starting the Forms. It didn't matter though; he knew he deserved the pain.  
  
This was part of the punishment he earned. 'For all my stupidity,' he thought as he launched 'The Fury of Zeus. For the first time this spell worked properly, as a bolt of fierce yellow lightning hit each of the figures, destroying them all.  
  
Harry fell to his knees panting. That was one the most powerful spell he knew, and took the last of his strength. He swept his left arm out, disengaging the battle orbs before the figures could emerge again. He wasn't sure how long he had been dueling, but he guessed he had been at it for quite some time. As his breathing calmed, the pain of countless welts and bruises filled his mind. Since none of the orbs were set above novice there were no greater injuries. He wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth as he sat back on his heels. After a few moments his breathing calmed a bit. He closed his eyes and tried to block out all the pain. He struggled to get back into his meditative state. It took several long minutes for him to reach a place where he could meditate. When he did, he stayed in that position for a long time. He lived in memories from a distant age; the pain of the now was forgotten for a time.  
  
When he finally climbed out of his trunk, many hours after he had entered, he felt nothing inside. No sadness, no anger, no pain. His face was blank and pale, holding no emotion. He collected several books and tucked the letter into one of them. He walked over to the door, opened it and stepped into the hall. He had taken several steps before he paused. He looked back at the bedroom door in consternation.  
  
'Didn't I put a locking charm on the door?' he thought in some confusion. After several moments he decided that he must have forgotten and continued to the drawing room.  
  
Severus Snape's head appeared in the fire of Albus Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts. The Headmaster was seated behind his desk and Professor McGonagall seated in front. The pair had been in the midst of a heated conversation in which he heard Potter's name mentioned. His stomach clenched in anger. 'Why is it POTTER they're always concerned with?' Snape thought angrily. 'Well this ought to show them what I've always said about the spoiled brat!'  
  
Dumbledore noticed Snape and spoke first. "Yes, Severus? What can I do for you?" Snape's head turned toward the Headmaster. He noticed McGonagall glaring at him from the corner of his eye. 'Well, she does always side with that filthy little. . .' After a second, he said aloud, "Headmaster, I was at headquarters a short time ago, and I noticed Potter wasn't there."  
  
"What!" McGonagall shrieked.  
  
Dumbledore rose halfway from his chair, "Are you certain? He was locked in his room when I went to check on him earlier today."  
  
"I entered his room myself. I checked the entire house. He was nowhere to be found," he said smugly.  
  
Dumbledore sat back down with a sigh. "I knew he was upset about the letter. I did not, however, think he would do something as foolish as leaving a secure location."  
  
"Yes, you would think after he got Black killed the idiot would have learned something," It almost sounded like glee in Snape's voice.  
  
"Severus," Dumbledore began in a dangerous voice. "You are not to say anything of the like to Harry. I am quite certain you will regret it." He let the unspoken threat hang in the air.  
  
Snape could not help but let the anger show on his face. "As you wish, Headmaster," he said icily. "I'll return to headquarters and see if he turns up."  
  
"No, return to Hogwarts. I have several meetings here that are imperative. I may need your input with one of them."  
  
Snape scowled but said nothing in reply. A second later, with a small pop, his head vanished from the fire.  
  
"Albus," McGonagall started worriedly.  
  
Before she could continue, Dumbledore interrupted. "I know, Minerva. Please contact Molly at the Burrow and see if she has heard from him; also the twins, at the shop, and Bill, at Gringott's. Tell them all to stay put but to keep an eye out. Also contact Kingsley and inform him of the situation. Alastor should be here soon, we will try to finish the meetings as quickly as possible and head out to search for him ourselves."  
  
She nodded once and hurried out to use the fire in her office, "I will return when I've made the calls."  
  
Albus Dumbledore rested his forehead in one hand as he sighed. "Ah, Harry. How do I get us back to where we once were?"  
  
At that moment a familiar clunking made its way through the open door. "What's happened with Potter now?"  
  
"Severus just fire-called and said he wasn't at headquarters."  
  
"Bloody hell," he breathed. "Should I go out and look for him?"  
  
"No, Minerva is informing the Weasley's, and I also have her contacting Kingsley to keep his ears open." Moody grunted in agreement, pulled out his hip flask, and took a long swig.  
  
They stood in silence for several moments before McGonagall reentered the office, "Well, Molly is frantic and furious at him, and the twins are going to keep a lookout. I was told that Bill had to take care of something at another vault and wasn't expected back for the rest of the day. And lastly, Shacklebolt said he was planning on doing paperwork in the office all day, so he will be able to keep a close eye on the magical sensors."  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Have our first guests arrived yet?'  
  
She nodded, "I saw the first carriage approaching the school. They should be here momentarily."  
  
Close to three hours later Dumbledore was nearly finished with the last meeting. This was a meeting not to do with the ongoing, still mostly secret, war, as the others today had been. No, this meeting was different. He was still regarded as being the foremost wizard in all of Europe, and perhaps the entire world, and meetings like this were a large part of that. His counsel was often sought after when predominate witches and wizards wanted or needed to discuss various magical matters, whether it be help in developing new magic' or in understanding some ancient form. Today's meeting had dealt with the latter, but it would not be finished in one sitting. Dumbledore was near to calling the meeting to an end for the time being when he felt the familiar slight heat emanate from amulet he wore on a fine silver chain around his neck. With a motion that seemed as if he were merely brushing something from the front of his robes, he tapped the amulet twice. This was to signal acknowledgement and that he was not prepared to respond at that time.  
  
Several minutes later his guests had said their farewells and left the room. Once they had left, Minerva McGonagall reentered and took a seat in front of the desk. Moody stood looking out the window.  
  
Minerva spoke. "Albus, I've not heard any word on Harry yet."  
  
He nodded and withdrew the amulet from beneath his robes. It was a shiny black disk, very thin, runes cut in silver rounded it. In the center sat mounted a bright blue stone. He held it on one palm. With the other hand he waved two fingers over the stone while muttering the activation spell.  
  
A second later, inch high bright blue flames appeared above the stone. After another second Bill Weasley's handsome face appeared amid the flames. "Professor Dumbledore!" he said anxiously.  
  
"Bill, how many times must I remind you that you haven't been a student in many years? You may call me by my first name," he teased gently.  
  
At the look on Bill's face, though, the small smile he had disappeared. "Bill, what is it?"  
  
"Professor, I'm at headquarters. . ."  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "Yes Bill, we know Harry isn't there."  
  
"What do you mean? Harry's here. But I think something is wrong with him!" Bill said hurriedly.  
  
Dumbledore held him in a piercing gaze. "Bill, explain to me what you mean, as quickly as possible."  
  
"Well, I finished up at the bank early, so I figured I'd go check on Harry. I saw how upset he was, and I figured I'd try and speak to him and tell him I'd take care of the inheritance papers for him. Well, when I got there I was walking up to his room, but he was in the drawing room. I thought he had fallen asleep in one of the overstuffed chairs. Something was odd though, he was muttering, and his expression..." He paused. "It was like he was in agony. I thought he might be having a nightmare; I went to try and wake him. When I got within a step or two of him, Falcore was at me, squawking and beating at me with his wings. When I backed off a couple of steps he flew back to sit next to Harry and started singing again. I sensed magic, a lot of magic. Some of it was coming from Falcore, but there must have been a hell of a lot from Harry."  
  
"Did you recognize the type of magic?" Dumbledore said quickly. He knew that Bill, being a Curse Breaker, had much knowledge of the feel of different types of magic. It was a prerequisite of staying alive in that job.  
  
"No, I've never felt anything quite like it."  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Damn. . . I would guess, then, that he is under mental attack from Voldemort," he said quietly.  
  
Moody stepped up, as if ready for a fight. "Is there anything we can do to help him?" he growled.  
  
Dumbledore shook his head. "No. Judging by his altercation with Severus when he first got to Grimmauld place, he has been training for this. All we can do is go there and wait for it to end," he said in a quiet voice. "And hope Harry is strong enough to endure."  
  
His mind began to clear as the ache in his head began to burn. Harry had felt the soreness in his body for only a moment before the searing headache took him. He tried to open his eyes, but the pain held them tightly closed. He felt the sweat covering his body and all his muscles were tightly clenched. His breathing was rapid, and he forced himself to calm it. After a few moments he settled a bit. As he calmed he felt Falcore's presence close by, off to the left. He took a deep breath and again attempted to open his eyes. As he did so, he heard a noise off to the opposite side of room. His mind screamed danger. He threw himself forward, ending in a crouch before the chair in which he had just sat. In one smooth motion his wand flew out to the noise in his right hand. In his left a bright ball of Living Fire bloomed above his palm. He had done all this before he was even able to open his eyes. A second later he did. It took his mind a moment to comprehend the four people opposite him. Each wore a look of surprise on his face.  
  
Harry mumbled an apology as he clasped his hand down on the fire and fell forward onto his knees. His head bent forward as he brought his hands up to clutch at his temples.  
  
It was silent for a moment before Moody growled, "Nice reflexes, Potter, but we've been standing here for a good long time. If we were gonna attack, we'd have had ya."  
  
Harry nodded weakly and muttered, "Constant vigilance, I remember. . ."  
  
Bill and Dumbledore came forward and helped Harry to his feet; the Headmaster asked quietly, "Are you all right, Harry?"  
  
Harry nodded again, though his legs felt as if the wouldn't support him for much longer. Bill seemed to think the same, as he didn't remove his hand from his upper arm.  
  
"Has this happened before this summer?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
Harry nodded. "This is the third time, this was the worst by far, though." He paused to take a deep breath. "He seems much stronger than the last time. . ."  
  
Harry had only one thought, which was to grab a potion from his trunk, and sit in the quiet for a time. At least until the headache cleared enough for him to see straight.  
  
Before he could take a step towards the door though, Dumbledore spoke again, "Was there any indication as to the reason for this attack?"  
  
Harry turned and looked up into the headmaster's eyes as he searched his mind for the answer. It took several minutes before he croaked, "He hoped to surprise me, to break through my mind and take control. If he couldn't achieve that, then he hoped to try to get a look at where I was and who with."  
  
Harry's hand went up to rub his eyes, "I don't think he's back to his full strength yet, he's furious that he can't just stamp out my mind. . ."  
  
There was silence for a moment. Harry felt sick to his stomach. He said hastily, "I. . . I have to go. . ."  
  
He turned away from his Headmaster and pulled away from Bill's grip on his arm. He stumbled shakily from the room. As he walked he felt, more than saw, that he was being trailed by the four.  
  
He vaguely heard Snape's angry hiss from behind him. "Headmaster, this mental attack has nothing to his actions earlier today!"  
  
Harry heard Dumbledore sigh. "Yes, Severus, I know." He paused for a moment as he mounted the steps. "Harry, we need to discuss your leaving Grimmauld Place today."  
  
Harry answered dumbly, the croakiness of his voice a bit worse, "Leave Grimmauld place, sir? Where am I going?" He didn't even pause when speaking, he continued his tottering up the stairs. The thought of his bed, a dark room, and a potion were the only thing he cared about right now.  
  
He thought he vaguely heard Snape sputter as Dumbledore continued in the same calm soothing voice, "No, Harry, we need to discuss where you went today and why. You know full well it is not safe for you to leave here. I would have thought we needn't have this conversation."  
  
Harry's mind was still numb. What the hell was Dumbledore talking about? He hadn't gone anywhere today. All he wanted was to lie down quietly. Why were they bothering him now? As he made it to the top step he answered, "I haven't left here today, jus been working. . ." His voice was beginning to slur with fatigue.  
  
They had all topped the stairs and started down the hall as Harry heard Snape's furious voice, "Do not lie Potter! I know you were not here! Did you think no one would notice all the flowers you conjured? What was it, you couldn't resist going out to see one of your harlots?" he spat. "We all know that safety concerns mean nothing to the famous Harry Potter!"  
  
Harry froze in mid step, the pain receding a bit as his blood began a slow boil. Through clenched teeth he said, "You went into my room?"  
  
Dumbledore groaned inwardly. He should have thought to leave Severus at Hogwarts. This situation was going to soon going to spiral out of control. He thought to speak before the situation escalated but Severus beat him to it.  
  
"Yes, Potter, I was in your room. Did you think that meager Locking Charm would stop any real wizard?" The voice was boring into his brain, every word spoken tore more at his head. The Potions Master wouldn't relent though, he continued in a more hateful voice, "So I know you are a liar, Potter. A stinking filthy liar. Like father, like son, and come to it, like godfather like godson. . . liars all the same. It doesn't matter who you get killed as long as you get your way. You weren't happy enough getting the idiot Black ki...."  
  
He didn't finish that statement, though. As the voice of Morgus, calm and soothing, reminded him of the need of clarity of the mind, Harry's blood boiled over. It was pounding in his ears; his eyes only saw red as he launched himself at his Potions Master. He didn't bother with a wand this time; no, he wanted to use his hands. All he wanted at that time was to get his hands around that stinking, filthy, throat and shut the voice up once and for all.  
  
Dumbledore cringed at Snape's words; he knew the effect they would have. He quickly drew his wand to disarm Harry. Harry, on the other hand never went for his wand but bodily launched himself at Severus. Dumbledore was able to catch him in a Suspension Charm, in mid-air, Harry's finger tips mere inches from Snape's neck.  
  
Severus Snape's eye's widened as the thin, wiry form of Harry Potter flew through the air at him. He had no time to reach for his wand as he attempted a step back. His legs tangled and he fell back hard on the floor. His face twisted between fear and bewilderment. Potter hung in mid-air over him, face contorted with rage and hate.  
  
There was silence for a moment, then Snape's face began to grow into a grin as he saw Dumbledore's wand trained on Harry. The grin quickly fled as he caught sight of a red faced and furious Bill Weasley coming at him with wand drawn.  
  
Moody came up behind Bill to back him up. Harry was furious at Dumbledore; he physically struggled against the spell but couldn't move. He vaguely heard, though his rage, Bill telling Snape to leave or else there would be real trouble. When Dumbledore spoke heatedly to Bill, defending Snape, Harry became more incensed. Drawing all his will and bringing all the magic he could muster to the surface, he forced his head to turn to his Headmaster.  
  
"Release me," Harry hissed.  
  
Dumbledore was shocked that Harry was able to move his head as much as he was able. It was possible to do this, and not too difficult if you knew the counter spell. The spell was old though, not many knew it. Without knowing the counter, the amount of anger and magic that was needed to move were great. He knew if he released Harry now the situation would worsen tenfold.  
  
"I will not release you until you calm yourself," he said sternly.  
  
He continued, "Severus, please return to Hogwarts immediately."  
  
Before Snape could answer Harry said more loudly, "LET ME GO NOW!"  
  
Severus Snape looked up at all the hate-filled eyes facing him; he thought quickly. 'With Dumbledore holding Potter, it leaves me against two. Worse yet, Moody is one of the two; he won't need much of an excuse. Bloody Potter! Why do all these fools always back him!' He decided to make a strategic retreat. He couldn't help but give Potter a cold smile before casually strolling down the stairs.  
  
Again Harry raged, "RELEASE ME!"  
  
After a few moments Dumbledore quietly said to Harry, "I will release you in a moment. You must take care that you do not injure yourself upon landing."  
  
"Just release me!" he spat.  
  
Dumbledore sighed sadly and lifted his wand to break the spell. He fully expected Harry in his rage to fall flat down onto his face. He was surprised yet again as Harry nimbly tucked his shoulder as he rolled into his landing.  
  
Harry snapped up, turning around, his glare fixing on the old wizard. There was a tense moment when the three wizards opposite him felt sure there would be a battle fought in this hallway. After a moment the fatigue of his mental battle was returning in earnest. Saying nothing he strode past the three and entered his room.  
  
He pressed the tips of his fingers to his temples in a vain attempt to ease the ache. He felt his hands tremble as he heard someone enter the room behind him. 'Why won't they give me a moment's peace?' he whined in his own head.  
  
"What?" he asked tersely.  
  
"Harry," Dumbledore's voice held barely controlled anger. "This is totally inexcusable. Attacking Professor Snape, no matter what he said..." He paused as if reconsidering. "You know you were wrong for going out today."  
  
Harry whirled about, seeing the three opposite him flinch back slightly. In a voice of forced calm he said, "I told you already I. . . DID. . . NOT. . . LEAVE. . . HERE!"  
  
"Harry, Professor Snape searched the house. . ."  
  
Harry cut him off. "To hell with Snape, and to HELL with you for believing that piece of filth! And if I feel like leaving here any GODDAMN time I want, there is not a DAMN thing you can say about it! You are not the Headmaster here!" His voice grew louder with every word. "You think you can keep me trapped like you did with Sirius? This is my house now, he left it to me and I'll do what I damn well please."  
  
Dumbledore broke in now. "You are still an underage wizard, you. . ." he said heatedly.  
  
Harry cut him off. "You forget about the exemption. I have no guardian, nor do I need one, legally or otherwise," he growled. "I took care of myself when you dumped me off on Privet Drive leaving me in the false protection of the bond, and I can bloody well take care of myself here."  
  
Harry's words cut Dumbledore. He felt the pain behind his wall of calm. He saw the young man's glare, he knew if it continued this way it would come to blows. He was afraid, afraid of hurting this young wizard that was the hope of everyone. He didn't know what to say to fix this; all he did seemed to make the rift between them wider.  
  
In the moment of silence Moody's growling voice said, "I see you bought yourself a sorcerer's trunk, Potter."  
  
"I see the great Auror decides to chime in. . ." Harry said, without moving his glare from Dumbledore. "No one wondered how my dueling skills have improved so much this summer, or how I've been able to study so much?" he asked acidly.  
  
Dumbledore sighed inwardly. He was wrong yet again. Severus was wrong and he had believed him. "Harry," he began. "I apologize for not believing you, but this situation with Professor Snape, and your temper. . ." He paused, taking a fortifying breath. "Harry, Professor Snape took his own personal time to help you. You know you were wrong and your actions needed his aid. Without his help you might not have survived today." Harry looked at Dumbledore incredulously, and gave a mocking laugh. "Help? HELP? Any more help from that bastard and my aura would be so damaged I wouldn't be able to put up any damn mental defense!"  
  
Dumbledore looked at Harry warily. 'Even if it's true, how could he know? Who has he been talking to, what has he been studying?' he thought suspiciously. It is impossible for a wizard to see his own aura. He had to be sure. Seeing someone's aura was a very deep scan. Not many witches or wizards were able to see that deeply. He focused now, opening his mind's eye. Deeper and deeper he went. After a moment he began to see the traces of Harry's aura. Just then someone shook his arm. He ignored it, till it became more insistent.  
  
He broke off in annoyance, though nothing but curiosity showed. He looked over to his right and saw Alastor Moody was giving him an anxious look; after a second, Alastor motioned slightly with his head towards Harry.  
  
Albus Dumbledore was startled to see the look of cold fury directed at him from the young wizard. In a voice of trembling anger Harry enunciated every word precisely. "Don't I even deserve common courteously from you?"  
  
Dumbledore was startled yet again. This many times in one day was a very disconcerting thing. Harry was not old enough a wizard to understand the protocol of using the sensing skill on another. Sensing someone directly, as opposed to his normal wide scanning, was a very personal thing. It was common courtesy to ask permission before looking that deeply at someone—but as an old man, an old teacher dealing with a student, he had disregarded it. He supposed the fact that he thought Harry wouldn't know the protocols had something to do with it.  
  
This was, of course, one of the first memories Harry had retrieved for the training of his sensing skills with the Warriors of the Light.  
  
"My apologies, Harry," he said quietly. "Please forgive an old man's lapse. May I see the damage for myself?"  
  
Harry gave him a terse nod.  
  
It only took Dumbledore a few minutes to see the damage Harry spoke of. It was extensive, but not to the point of affecting him yet. The damage would heal itself in time. 'Perhaps Severus is not the teacher I thought him to be,' he thought. Before he broke off the scan he checked Harry's mental defenses. After such a battle they were sure to be weaker, but they did seem adequate for the time being.  
  
He was unsure of how to speak to Harry, how to calm him. He thought to offer special tutoring, to perhaps help develop his defenses even more. There was a time when Harry would have been more than positively ecstatic to simply sit and learn with him. "I see your mental defenses are progressing nicely. If you like, I could help you strengthen them."  
  
"No, thank you," Harry said coldly. "I'm doing well enough on my own."  
  
Harry saw Dumbledore flinch slightly at the tone of his voice. The rage inside him wouldn't let him care. As long as the rage flowed, the ache in his head was bearable.  
  
Dumbledore sighed deeply. "Harry, I know you have been having a hard time of late, but you must learn to control your temper and. . ."  
  
Harry cut him off. "CONTROL MY TEMPER?!?" he raged. "I was just in a fight for MY LIFE, and come to it, all of your lives too." His glare swept the three before continuing in a hateful tone. "YOU being the GREATEST wizard in the world should know what a mental battle like that takes out of a wizard! ANY WIZARD! But do you give me a moment to get my breath? Do you give me a moment to collect my thoughts? No! Your precious piece of FILTH says that I did wrong, and you jump like a goddamn dog to whatever he says!" Harry broke off what he was saying; now the yelling was making his head worse. He walked over to his trunk, picked out the right key and opened the middle lock. He extracted a bottle and took a long swig.  
  
"What are you taking?" Bill asked cautiously, not wanting Harry's anger turned on him.  
  
"Standard headache potion. I needed it badly a few weeks ago. Learning to protect your mind has a tendency to give terrible headaches," he said in a weary voice.  
  
"Mix it up yourself?" Moody asked.  
  
"Who else? Not like I have anyone I can rely on for help."  
  
Moody seemed to be mulling something over before he growled softly, "What did you mean, all our lives?"  
  
"Think about it, Moody. If Voldemort ever broke in without destroying my mind he would have total control. Total control, no fighting it like the Imperious Curse. What do you think Voldemort would do if he was in control of me? Most times the Order members come in one at a time. You think he could resist killing you all, one by one?"  
  
Harry walked over to the desk and sat. He laid his head against the palm of one hand, wishing they would just leave, already. The truth of his statement just added to his aches. His headache, his heartache. . .  
  
Dumbledore seeing Harry's rage ebb a bit towards sorrow decided to try to smooth things over again. "We are simply worried about you, Harry. We all care about you a great. . ."  
  
"Please leave, all of you, please leave."  
  
Harry didn't look back, but felt all the eyes on him. For a long moment silence reigned, till the three left without saying a word. He heard the door close. He sat quietly for a few moments, his heart jumping a bit at a flash of fire. He calmed as Falcore began to sing softly to him. He stayed that way for a long time.  
  
Sometime later, feeling so tired, but fearing to sleep in his weak mental condition, he decided to go to the tribunal. He had questions. Direct questions. He didn't have the time to take every memory ritual in the book. He had ideas and he had suspicions. He wanted answers from the only source he believed would tell him true. On top of that he needed to know how to kill. How to win. Even if they didn't have the answer for that, he needed a push in the right direction.

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	9. The Meeting

Chapter Nine: The Meeting  
  
Hermione sat with her legs tucked under her, at one end of the comfy sofa in the family room at the Burrow. She was alone there; the Weasley's were all at work, or in the case of Ginny and Mrs. Weasley running errands. An open book sat on her lap, a very normal posture for her. Not normal though was the fact that she wasn't deeply engrossed in her newest book. No, her eyes darted to the carriage clock every few moments on the mantle, waiting for noon. Today she was going to work with Harry. She had been looking forward to this. He had learned so many fascinating things that she was dying to try.  
  
She also hoped that finally they might be able speak about relationships like adults. God only knew she could use some input especially his, since he was the tall, handsome, red headed git's best friend. Things were always so awkward with Ron. His petty jealousy and his lack of any kind of tact were always sending her mixed signals. The fact of the matter was she was getting fed up; she was fast loosing her patience at waiting on the big goon to make the first move. But whenever she got so fed up he would do some small thing, usually when they were alone, like take her hand or give her a warm private smile that would curl her toes. The feeling of being fed up would disappear for a while again. She sighed heavily. Then there was the wedding this Saturday, why couldn't he just straight out ask her to go with him. No, instead he has to beat around the bush. Phrases like 'Well since you're invited anyway we could just act like we were together,' or 'well since you don't have a date when I have to dance, we could together.' She sighed again, her eyes darting to the clock again.  
  
She thought of Harry again, they all knew something had happened yesterday. They were all questioned at length by Mrs. Weasley to his whereabouts. They were all a little anxious about where he had gone and more importantly, why. No one thought Harry would do something like going out for no good reason. Especially after the last day he was outside. When Bill finally returned to the Burrow he told her, Ginny, Ron, and Mrs. Weasley that Harry really hadn't left, he had been working in his trunk the whole day. Bill had to explain to his mum what a sorcerer's trunk was. They were all relieved, but the look on Bill's face clearly said more had happened. When Ron said offhandedly that it was stupid they had all forgotten about the trunk Mrs. Weasley turned a furious glare at them. All the anxiety she felt turned to anger at the three of them. How could they forget a tiny bit of information that would have saved her all that worry? Hermione noticed that she seemed even more protective when it came to Harry, and Harry and Ginny, looking happy and distraught all the time when it came to him and them. Later on that evening when the twins came home from the shop, Ron had cornered them. Demanding to know what else happened. Bill gave the twins only limited details, but he had mentioned Snape was involved.  
  
Hermione had been looking forward to working with Harry until she learned about this. She wasn't sure if she could deal with him in the midst of his fury. If she was honest with herself she had to admit that in the midst of his fury like before they went to the ministry or when Snape had attacked Harry at Grimmauld place, she was a bit frightened of him.  
  
"Hmm, more than a bit," she muttered to herself.  
  
Those two times she felt the pure power of one of her best friends her almost brother, and it scared the hell out of her. It was very near the way she felt the one time she saw Dumbledore angry. She knew he would never hurt her, any of them, she knew that in her heart. Harry would literally get himself killed to save one of them. But his anger and power that she knew was far beyond her own still made her nervous.  
  
At exactly noon she entered the fireplace at the Burrow and was soon spinning her way to Grimmauld Place. She looked around the gloomy room and immediately felt guilty about her negative thoughts about Harry. First spending the beginning of the holiday locked in his bedroom in a house full of people that despised him, then to be alone most of the time in this gloomy old house and to top it all of that had happened, Harry's birthday passed without anyone realizing it. She was sure that no one even had remembered to wish him a happy one. Well Mrs. Weasley had a plan to rectify it. Sunday, the day after the wedding there would be a party for him, a surprise party. She smiled at the thought.  
  
"Harry, Harry I'm here!" She called up the stairs.  
  
"In here," said his voice from the kitchen.  
  
Hermione's smile fled when she saw him. He stood chopping something at the counter. Three books propped up in front of him. He was reading as he worked. He didn't look over as she entered the room. From his profile she saw he was as pale as she had ever seen him. She also noticed the heavy bags under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept in days.  
  
"Just give me a moment Hermione, I have only a minute before these roots need to be put in," he said in soft almost sorrowful voice.  
  
"Ok Harry," she said in what she hoped was a bright voice. It was then she noticed the cauldron bubbling in the hearth. She also noticed that his hands shook every so often as he worked.  
  
After a moment Harry had dumped the ingredients into the potion and he turned to her. He gave her a weak smile and said, "Sorry about that."  
  
She returned the smile though she prayed it was brighter than his and said, "No problem, what are you brewing?"  
  
"Wolf's Bane potion."  
  
Her eye's widened slightly, "Really?" she almost squealed in delight, "Oh, I hear it's an oh so difficult potion to brew."  
  
He shrugged turning to the center book, "Takes about fifteen hours, the ingredient timetable is a bit rough though. Never tried a potion that had to be done so precisely."  
  
The tone of his voice seemed to be trying to pull the smile off her face, but she held firm, "So ready to get to some work?"  
  
He nodded then paused for a second. His face contorted, she thought he was going to burst into tears. It took only a moment before he composed himself. He said in a voice that almost brought tears to her eyes, "I made some copies of the Merlin's notes for you." He gestured over to a pair of books and a few rolls of parchment, "I thought you might like to take a crack at them."  
  
She didn't have to force the smile; this was something totally fascinating. Something not many had ever attempted. She saw Harry's slight smile at the expression on her face. His voice didn't change though, "Don't get too excited yet, Dumbledore told me one of the pages he did took him over a year."  
  
Hermione gaped at him, "Over a year? Ooh, did he tell you what was written on the page?"  
  
Harry stared dumbly at her, with a shake of his head as if to say 'How stupid am I?' but actually said, "I never thought to ask."  
  
"Ok, come sit down next to me and I think I can sort of help you start."  
  
They sat at the head of the table; Harry picked up one of the books and handed it to her. It was old, the leather torn in places and the gilding largely worn away. "The old witch who gave me the copies of the pages also gave me this book, it was written by her great uncle. He managed in his lifetime to decode; I think he said in the book, two dozen pages."  
  
Hermione noticed a slight change in Harry's voice. This was the voice he used in the D.A., this was the voice of Harry the teacher. She smiled to herself; he really was an excellent teacher. He seemed so confident in his knowledge. And when he was teaching he had the patience of a saint. Neville at the start of the D.A. was the typical blundering Neville but Harry always encouraged, and always praised. The praise never sounded false either, it always sounded heartfelt. People seemed to learn when he taught and yearned to learn more from him.  
  
Harry continued, "Ok, how to begin," he paused, "See I sorta blundered my way through and I think I got really lucky," he said. Somehow Hermione couldn't get herself to believe a word of it, not now anyway.  
  
"Ok," he started again after a few moments, "Well these pages are locked. It's a kind of combination lock; I think that's the best way to describe it. Only instead of putting in numbers you need to do a spell on the page.  
  
His voice seemed to be picking up strength and his face brightened a bit as he spoke. "You know how spells are put into categories according to the base spell form?"  
  
"Sure we learned a lot about it in Charms class over the past few years."  
  
He smiled a little wider, "Maybe you did Hermione, the rest of us are trying to catch up on what we slept through."  
  
She tried to look disapproving, but with his despair lifting she couldn't even manage a halfhearted scowl. So she giggled and frowned.  
  
"So Merlin used spells in each of the seven categories, and from what I've read he never used any spells from the dark magic categories. Well anyway, the right spell in the right order from each category will unlock the page to your eyes, your eyes only though.  
  
"Oh, and you only get three chances on the spell before the spell resets itself with a new combination."  
  
Hermione gaped at him, and he says 'he blundered through it?'  
  
At her expression Harry said, "Yeah I know, he was ruddy brilliant. I couldn't even begin to figure out how he cast such a complex spell."  
  
He had gotten her expression wrong, but she didn't correct him. "But then. . . how do you figure it out?"  
  
Harry was quiet for a moment tapping his fingers on the table, trying to sort out the words. Eventually he said, "You have to sort of have to feel it. Let's face it Hermione, you're a pretty powerful witch for your age. I think you might be at a level where you can sort of feel some magic around you."  
  
She could almost understand that, almost but not quite. He continued though, "After you cast the spell you can sort of feel its reactions on the page. As you grow stronger you'll start to be able to tell the spell cast just by sense." After seeing her blank look he said, "Hmm, lets try this," he unrolled one of the parchments and placed it in front of her. He instructed her to place one hand on each end of the page, then to relax and close her eyes.  
  
Harry first placed his hands over hers and then spoke in a soft, soothing, almost ethereal voice, "Clear your mind now.  
  
"Slowly push all thought out of your mind.  
  
"Try to block out all of your senses, one by one . . . just listen to my voice and open up your magic.  
  
"Feel your magic deep down inside you, slowly bring it to surface.  
  
Harry didn't know where he was getting these words and procedure from but it almost felt as if his own magic was guiding hers. He didn't remember it from any time with the Warriors, but it seemed to be working. It had all taken some time before Hermione sat limply across from him, then some more time before he felt the slight tingle of her magic under his hands.  
  
He smiled to himself; his thoughts clear for a time. "Excellent," he whispered, "Now I'm going to cast a spell on the page. Try not to listen to the incantation, rather try and feel the magic and the pages reaction to it.  
  
"Impedimenta," Harry muttered, his wand trained on the page.  
  
"Ooh, I felt something," she said in a distant voice.  
  
"Excellent, it seems I got the right category right off, but not the right spell. I'll show you what it feels like when you cast the totally wrong spell now."  
  
"Relashio," he said as a small gout of sparks shot from his wand.  
  
"Could you sense the difference?"  
  
Hermione's eyes opened and she smiled. "Yes I did!"  
  
Harry gave her a tired smile in return. "Good, now you have more information to start out with than I did. Between these two books you should find most of the spells, and of course the first book has a lot of background information if you need it.  
  
"Have fun. If you have any questions don't hesitate to ask."  
  
She nodded and opened the first book, beginning to scan the pages. She saw Harry get up and get the books he had propped up on the counter, along with parchment, ink and quills. He took a seat across from her and began to read the two books.  
  
Hermione watched Harry every so often as she was working. It was almost as interesting as what she was working on was watching him. After a time he had summoned several more books, and she watched as he seamlessly read several pages from one then went onto the next and so on. He made notes on several different parchments as he went. The scratching of the quill had a mesmerizing effect on her as she engrossed herself in her own work.  
  
She was unsure of how long she was working when she noticed that she didn't hear the quill anymore. After another failed attempt on the second spell of the lock she looked up at Harry. The heels of his palms were rubbing his eyes then face. After a moment she noticed his hands shaking fiercely, and then he lowered them. When she saw his face she almost burst into tears. The look of abject misery and what looked like terror covered his face. He wasn't looking at her; he was sort of staring out into space. She glanced down and saw several more parchments with writing covering them. She noticed one looked like a letter, to a Mr. Thatcher. She wondered where she had heard that name before.  
  
She watched his terrible expression for several minutes before she said softly, "Harry, are you alright? What's wrong?"  
  
He didn't answer for several minutes, at first she didn't think he had heard her, but suddenly he came back to himself. She noticed the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "What? Oh nothing Hermione, I just. . . I just have a lot of things on my mind. It's nothing."  
  
It was obviously a lie. There was obviously a big something. Hermione thought about what to say as he got up and went to the counter. He took the mortar and pestle and began to grind some ingredients; she supposed they were the next to go into the cauldron. After watching him for several moments she said quietly, "You know Ginny, Ron and I got letters from Sirius yesterday too."  
  
He nodded, but didn't turn to look at her. "I know, he told me in his letter. Said he also left you three a bit of money too." Harry paused for a long moment then said in a voice that cracked slightly, "He really liked you, you know? He said you were my Remus. Our voice of reason he called you."  
  
Hermione wasn't sure if he laughed or sobbed. Hermione felt tears start down her own cheeks, she thought to go over and comfort him, but as she thought to rise he was already moving over to the cauldron. He spent quite some time sprinkling in whatever it was he just crushed and slowly stirred the bubbling potion. After some time he turned back to her and the table, his eyes were dry but the expression was roughly the same. He walked back over to the table not meeting her eyes; picked up the letter and seemed to read it through once before folding it, ready to send.  
  
Hermione didn't know the letter Harry had just written was to Colin Thatcher. He was of course an Elder of the Wizengamot, former head of the Auror's and a wizard with much knowledge of fighting against the dark forces. The letter wasn't a plea for someone to stand by his side in battle like was offered in the letter Harry had received with the book. No, he had asked for information about experts not only in the dark arts, but people who had studied Voldemort. Harry needed to try to track down the rituals Voldemort had gone through, to find out the extent of what powers he received from them. He also needed to figure out something about the immortality spells he had invented and cast on himself. Lastly, he needed to know what the rebirthing ritual had given him and what had been taken away. Harry wasn't sure how but he felt certain that Voldemort still wasn't the powerhouse of a wizard that he once was.  
  
Hermione hadn't always agreed with Sirius. She often thought he was too reckless when it came to what Harry was doing last year, not really parent like. She was also more than once suspicious of his feelings, but she had really liked him. She felt guilty about those thoughts now though. She did however know what he meant to Harry. She thought Dumbledore was right when he spoke to her and the Weasleys at the end of term, about how Harry felt about Sirius, a combination of father and brother. He of course was right about that. She knew him being killed was tearing Harry apart inside, and being alone almost all of the time didn't leave anyone to try and draw him out. Today though, she didn't exactly know why, but she was getting a strong suspicion that something more than the letter from Sirius was doing this to him. She couldn't put her finger on how or why she felt that way, but she was sure she was right. "Harry," she asked quietly, "You do know I'm here if you need to talk, right?"  
  
Harry thought about it for a time, 'How could I tell her. How can I tell her or anyone?' To Hermione he seemed to shake himself out of his thoughts for a moment then said, "Uh, yeah. Thanks Hermione."  
  
She thought to try to keep him talking; perhaps she could break in a bit and get him to open up. As he started to write another letter, which she saw was addressed to Madam Armenia something or the other she said, "Ron and I got our O.W.L. results yesterday, did you?" She was actually impressed with herself for her restraint in not yelling out her results soon as she exited the fireplace.  
  
Harry nodded, "Uh, yeah. . . uh, how did you two do?" he asked without lifting his gaze from the letter.  
  
She couldn't stop her brimming joy at her results, she nearly squealed again when she told him, "I got fourteen; I got all Outstanding plus extra on each exam to get that many."  
  
Harry looked up and gave her another small smile, "And Ron?" he asked.  
  
"Nine, he did oh so well, and since he got the same as Charlie had, Mrs. Weasley couldn't complain about it." Harry heard her brimming with pride.  
  
"He didn't get any extra points on his exams, but he got the O's where he needed them."  
  
Harry nodded but didn't say anything.  
  
Hermione asked cautiously, "How did you do?"  
  
Harry looked blankly at her for a moment. His eyes darting around the table as if looking for the letter, then said, "I . . . uh. . . I never got a chance to look.  
  
"You see. . . uh, all the post, came at once. . . I just didn't have. . . and then yesterday with Snape and Dumbledore. . . I just. . .  
  
"Uh, would you like a Butter Beer. . . or uh, maybe some tea. . ." he snapped up and began to busy himself making tea without even waiting for an answer.  
  
Hermione waited quietly, just watching him. She couldn't imagine what was going on in his head right now. He looked so tense, so nervous, so frightened. She wasn't sure, but the only time she could remember Harry ever being frightened was before his first Quidditch match and that was in their first year. He set the tea down in front of them several minutes later. He sat across from her without looking her in the eye. Almost immediately he began to loose himself in work. She watched him for quite some time as he went from tome to tome, his eyes racing across the pages. His quill jotting down notes from each of the parchments and at the same time writing a letter to that Armenia person. She was so very curious as to what he was working on, but she didn't want to break his concentration though. The work seemed to be the only thing holding him together right now. She sighed to herself, at a complete loss as to what to say or do. So the pair of them ended up working in silence for hours on end.  
  
At nearly six in the evening the pair heard the front door open. A moment later they both hear the voice of Remus calling up the stairs, "Harry! Harry!"  
  
Harry snapped up and raced into the living room, Hermione followed close behind. "Remus what's wrong, what's happened. Why are you back a day early?"  
  
Hermione and Remus Lupin both heard the anxiousness in his voice; actually it seemed on the verge of panic. Most un-Harry like. At least the several hours of uninterrupted work had calmed him a bit. His expression wasn't much better but at least she noticed that his hands were steady.  
  
Remus gave the two a tired smile and said, "Nothings wrong, just finished up a bit early. I received a letter from Sirius yesterday," he pause uncertainly, "I just wanted to be sure you were all right."  
  
"Oh, uh, yeah, I'm fine," he paused, "Uh, you, uh, you've had a long journey. Why don't I make us some more tea?" Without waiting an answer or for them to follow he made his way to the kitchen.  
  
Hermione and Remus shared a long look and she said very quietly, "I don't know Remus; he's barely said a word that wasn't work related. Well at least he's better then when I first got here."  
  
Remus heard the uncertainty and sadness in her voice; he laid a concerned hand on her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Before we go in there," she said, "you should know that something else happened yesterday. I don't know the details, but I think Harry and Professor Snape went at it again."  
  
Remus sighed deeply, after a moment then said, "Thanks Hermione, I'll get the story from Professor Dumbledore later on."  
  
When they entered the kitchen they saw Harry marking the pages in all the books he was working with and rolling up the parchments. The teakettle was over the fire to the opposite side of the potion. Remus and Hermione sat on the opposite side from Harry and watched him quietly. Remus was almost as concerned as Hermione.  
  
After packing his books up, Harry had served tea. He didn't sit with them though. When it looked like Remus was about to begin speaking to Harry, he went over to the counter and began preparing more potions ingredients. Hermione looked over at Remus and saw a very hurt expression on his face. She quickly leaned over and whispered in his ear, "I think that is the only way he can deal with things right now. He has to keep his mind and hand busy, if he doesn't. . ." she trailed off but gave him a dark look.  
  
Remus looked at her for a moment; at the expression on her face gave a soft nod. The hurt moved off his face a bit. He looked now as if he were trying to figure out what to say. He looked lost; he was staring at Harry's back in distress.  
  
Harry suddenly called out, making the pair start, "Falcore!" With a flash of fire the stunning creature appeared just over his shoulder, setting down softly. "Will you please deliver this for me?" Harry pulled the folded parchment from his pocket.  
  
Falcore gave a bright chirp before taking it in his beak and apparated away without Harry having to say another word.  
  
Hermione looked over at Remus, seeing him not ready yet to speak to Harry decided to fill in the silence, "Harry, how did Falcore know where to go without you telling him who the letter was for?"  
  
Harry paused in what he was doing and turned to look at her, "But I did." he smiled slightly at her blank look, "Not sure how it works exactly, I haven't had the time to look into it. I can send Falcore mental images or where I want him to go, or in this case who I want him to go to."  
  
Remus decided to try to continue talking to Harry about this, as it seemed to sooth him. "You know Dumbledore only uses Fawkes to send messages of importance Harry. You should always be aware of the message you are saying when you use a phoenix for something as simple as the post. People tend to have odd ways of viewing things."  
  
Harry nodded, considering what Remus had just told him. "I reckon you're right about that," he paused then said, "Well in this case I believe I was right to send Falcore."  
  
Remus clearly looked as if he wanted to ask to whom the letter was written to, but Harry had already turned back to his work. The spark of life he held for a moment was gone from his posture as he did.  
  
Remus still was unsure of what to say as they heard the front door open again. In a moment they all heard Mundungus's voice, "'Allo everyone!"  
  
Harry whirled around, a broad smile on his face for the first time today, "Dung! How you doing? You feeling alright!" he said as he strode over and clasped hands with the shady wizard.  
  
"Ah 'Arry, I'ms right a'rain, I am," he said.  
  
"Come, sit down. You want a cup of tea?"  
  
"Ah, I could doa wit somethin stronger."  
  
"Sure, sure," he said as he strode over to the cupboard and got out a half full bottle of Odgen's Old Fire Whisky.  
  
"Ah, thanks 'Arry."  
  
"Uh, Dung, uh, listen," the smile fading from Harry's face, "I, uh, I'm sorry you got hurt that day. And I uh, I should have come see you in St. Mungo's. I, uh, sorry." They all saw how the ache of guilt took over his face. Hermione and Remus ached to go over and comfort him.  
  
Mundungus on the other hand was looking uncomfortable over Harry's words. "Look 'Arry, I know you couldn't stop in an see me at St. Mungo's, don worry yur'self about that. An'I should be thankin you for saving me. I saw the way you was duelin'em.'  
  
Harry didn't have the chance to respond as two distinctive pops came from the living room. A moment later Kingsley and Mr. Weasley entered. Greetings were exchanged all around as Harry heard the living room fireplace emit another pop. Professor McGonagall entered next. In the next five minutes the kitchen was quite full. Harry got the last of his things together as Professor Dumbledore entered the room. He exchanged happy greetings with everyone there. But when he and Harry's eyes locked the happy expression slid off his face. Everyone in the room seemed to quiet as the two stared at each other. Dumbledore couldn't read Harry's expression and neither could anyone else. His look was almost accusatory. It did though make the headmaster very uncomfortable. It was as if the boy was trying to bore into his very soul to find the answers he sought.  
  
"Good evening Harry," Dumbledore said kindly to the terrible expression that faced him.  
  
Harry in turn never shifted his gaze, but gave a slight nod.  
  
Dumbledore matched the gaze and thought in consternation, 'what have you learned now Harry?'  
  
Silence reined in the kitchen, with each person watching first Harry, then Dumbledore. It stayed that way till Mrs. Weasley's bright face entered. She looked at the scene with concern. Her concern redoubled as she observed Harry's terrible demeanor. "Hello everyone, hello Harry dear." She said as she walked over to him and took his arm. "Ginny will be over in a few minutes with dinner for the two of you, why don't you go up to the drawing room to wait for her."  
  
Harry broke away from looking at his headmaster, turned his head and gave her a small smile and nod. He collected his books and parchment under one arm and let himself be steered towards the door.  
  
He paused for a moment and said to Hermione, "Uh, you can borrow those books for a while. I don't need them right now."  
  
Hermione smiled at him as she began gathering her things, "Thanks Harry, it was fun today."  
  
He nodded to her and started towards the door again, but paused again to say to the headmaster, "I have a potion brewing; I need to add some ingredients in about an hour and a half. I won't be more than a few minutes." His voice lacked any emotion, making most in the room very uncomfortable.  
  
"Of course Harry."  
  
As he left the room he heard Professor McGonagall say, "Miss Grainger, will you please wait a moment, I need a word with you."  
  
He made his way up to the drawing room and plopped down on one end of the sofa, dropping his books onto the table. He sat staring off into space as his mind whirled with decisions that needed to be made. Really they weren't decisions though, more like just the way things were. Still what he learned last night . . .  
  
Harry wasn't certain how long he sat there. He hadn't heard Ginny come into the room, or place the tray down on the table before them. He hadn't realized anything she said till he felt a soft hand caress the side of his face. It was then he looked over and saw the look of concern on her face.  
  
He tried to make his face bright, but he felt tears in his eyes as he looked at her pretty face and into her concerned bright brown eyes. "Hi Ginny, sorry I didn't hear you come in."  
  
Ginny watched him for a few moments and said softly, "It's ok Harry. Come on lets eat before it gets cold. I'm starved."  
  
Ginny heaped food onto his plate and made herself a much smaller one. The pair sat in silence for a time. Harry really had no hunger and he played with his food rather than ate. Ginny tried several times to make small talk but to no real avail.  
  
She sighed to herself, 'Maybe I should just be direct with him. Force him to talk to me about Sirius,' she thought miserably. After receiving the letter from him yesterday she had cried alone in her room for a good long time.  
  
The members of the Order of the Phoenix sat crowed around the table in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. Well, the order members plus two. Ron and Hermione sat at one side of the table between Mr. Weasley and the twins, looking most uncomfortable.  
  
"I've called you all here tonight, not so much as members of the Order of the Phoenix," he began, "But instead to discuss Harry. I don't have to tell some of you how important to our cause he is."  
  
He looked over to Ron and Hermione and said, "I realize this puts you in a most awkward position. Your loyalty to your friend is very important," he paused giving them a very stern look before continuing, "But I'm more concerned with keeping him alive and well.  
  
He looked around at the table and continued, "Harry has information and magical items that could be dangerous. I also believe he has been in contact with other witches and wizards unknown to me.  
  
"This is most distressing to me, as we know the cunning of our enemy. Harry is still too young to be able to judge these things for himself."  
  
Everyone was quiet for a moment before Remus spoke, "I don't know what exactly were your reasons for keeping me, us, from seeing Harry when he was with the muggles," he took a deep breath, "We left him alone with no one to turn to, no shoulder to cry on so to speak, so it seems to me his only recourse was to throw himself whole heartedly into work as his only means of survival both in battle and for his sanity. Hermione and I both saw evidence of that today. That on top of the other information you gave him. . ." he ended cryptically.  
  
Hermione nodded her agreement at the first part, not understanding the last. She after all had seen the perfect example of that today.  
  
"Remus, my decision to isolate Harry at his family's home, was for his own safety, as I thought it would be a bad idea for wizarding guests to be seen entering the house. It could draw too much attention. I thought as well that he had to make peace with matters in his own for a time. He was after all with his family, and I had thought that if he needed this shoulder to cry on they would be there for him."  
  
Ron snorted derisively, turning to Dumbledore he said, "You're kidding, right?"  
  
Everyone at the table was shocked at his tone towards Dumbledore. Molly snapped, "Ron!" in a tone that could have skinned a man alive.  
  
Ron was actually very surprised with himself. Turning to his mother he silenced her with a look; he ignored the table full of adults staring at him and continued, "Those ruddy muggles always hated him. They proved how far that hate went by betraying him. Even if it hadn't gone that far and Harry was desperate enough for someone to talk to by taking the chance of talking with them, they would've just used it to hurt him. They like to hurt him, they like it a lot. I know only half of what they did to him over the years, and the half I know boils my blood enough to want to go over to Privet Drive and show those lousy muggles what a wizard can do.  
  
He said very quietly to Dumbledore, "if you knew only the half I knew you'd be up there on your knees begging Harry for forgiveness for dumping him there.  
  
"And now, when he thinks he's abandoned and forced into doing it all on his own you want us to tell you the small scraps of information he shared with us?" Ron shook his head darkly.  
  
The table around him was silent. Most mouths were slightly agape at his rant. Hermione on the other hand was beaming at him and her pride was evident. She saw the Weasley temper on high boil, but he controlled it enough to make his point. 'He really is growing up,' she thought nearly astonished. She took his hand underneath the table and gave it a squeeze. He turned to look at her, when their eyes met her heart skipped a beat. He returned the squeeze then returned to looking out over the table.  
  
"I admit I've made many mistakes when it comes to Harry," Dumbledore said quietly, "But this situation is too important. These books and things he has, these wizards he's talking to. It's very easy for a wizard in Harry's position to lose his way. There are many dangers you two and he are too young to fully comprehend."  
  
"I ask any of you who have any information, any small thing that Harry said even in passing, to please share it."  
  
After a few moments, "A couple of times when he wrote to check in he asked me some questions about spell work. You know, from an Auror's point of view. I don't remember them right off, but most of them were spells the Death Eaters favored the last time. He also asked me some about Auror tactics. Bloody good questions he asked too." This was Moody.  
  
Remus sighed and added, "He asked questions of me also, mostly about dark magic and its counters. He also asked about some questions that were beyond my knowledge."  
  
Dumbledore's gaze hadn't left Ron and Hermione and after having his gaze on her for so long she finally spoke in a miserable voice, "I saw him writing a couple of letters today," she paused a moment to clear her voice and then said, "One I only got the first name Armenia, the second was to a Mr. Thatcher. I know that name sounds familiar but I couldn't place it."  
  
"So Harry is in touch with Colin," Moody grumbled, "Well at least we know he's not dark."  
  
Dumbledore nodded, "Colin may not be the best influence on him though. I consider Colin a friend but he has always had the habit of jumping into battle first and asking questions later. Many a time only his knowledge and skill have kept him alive in situations he shouldn't have even been in."  
  
Dumbledore sighed as comments crossed the table, "If I would have to guess who the Armenia person is, I would have to say it would be Armenia Poinsettia."  
  
"Oh," Hermione said, "Didn't she write that book, The Rise and fall of a Dark Lord?"  
  
Professor McGonagall gave her a small smile and said, "Yes, Miss Granger."  
  
Molly noticed the twins glance at each other more than once, seeming to be having a silent conversation. She gave them a hard look and said sharply, "What do you two know about this?" Everyone quieted then.  
  
It was a long moment before, "We took care of the trunk and a lot of the gear for Harry," Fred said into the silence.  
  
"And we'd do it for him again if he asked," George put in, "But we don't know what else he got, all he asked was for us to pick up all his things, put it in the trunk and ship it on the Knight Bus."  
  
"Fred, George!" Molly shrieked.  
  
"An'I got'em some books," Mundungus said quietly, "He told me who to talk to, an'I made the deals, I fi'gured I owed him after the Dementors las year."  
  
"What books?!?" Professor McGonagall asked heatedly.  
  
"Mundungus I don't know what's wrong with you! How could you just. . ." Molly's outraged voice was cut off.  
  
All the adult members were talking loudly now. Several discussions were going on at once, each person trying to make his or her own point known.  
  
Hermione spoke loudly now, over everyone else. She hung onto Ron's hand a bit harder for reassurance, "Harry said on the night he came to Grimmauld Place that he would not be alive if not for that trunk and those things." She turned to Mad-eye and asked in a quieter voice, "You were there, at the end. Would he have survived?"  
  
Moody looked at her for a moment before shaking his head, "No lass, I do believe he would be dead now."  
  
"But that's my point exactly, if not for those things Harry might not have gone out that day and faced the three. He might not have even had to face that danger. As you said earlier there is no love lost between he and his relatives, he might not have gone out."  
  
Ron spoke again, "You're not serious? If you think that Professor, well, you don't know Harry. You don't know him at all."  
  
Hermione spoke is a soft voice, "Before he went out to face them, I spoke to him. I tried to convince him not to go. He said he couldn't let anyone else be hurt because of him."  
  
The pair had finished eating dinner and sat quietly side by side on the sofa. Ginny had yet not been able to get Harry to say more than a word or two at a time. She reached up and stroked his hair. Something was odd about it, "Harry, how is it that your hair so much longer than it was when I washed and brushed it for you?"  
  
He turned to look at her, "It's the magic."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"It's the amount of magic I've been using. I reckon I use more magic now in a day than we'd use in a couple or maybe even three weeks at school. I've been forcing my magic to grow, to develop. That in turn makes my body work a lot harder; somehow I think that causes things like hair and fingernails to grow faster. Actually I think I've grown an inch or three taller since we left school."  
  
She frowned at him, "I've never heard of something like that before. Stand up!" she ordered him.  
  
He obliged her easily as she looked him up and down. After a minute she said, "You're right I think you are taller.  
  
The stood facing each other when she said softly, "You know I got a letter from Sirius yesterday too."  
  
He nodded, sitting back down, not looking at her.  
  
"I miss him," she said.  
  
Harry only nodded.  
  
They sat in silence for a time before Harry managed to say, "Did your mum give you all a hard time. You know about going to the ministry with me? I've been kinda afraid to ask."  
  
She took his hand before she spoke, "First night back from school. We had a family discussion."  
  
He raised an eyebrow at the word 'discussion.'  
  
She smirked and said, "Ok mum yelled a whole lot. But after a while she stopped. Then Ron and I, as calmly as we could, told her that we'd have gone with you no matter what she said. We cared about Sirius and we care about you.  
  
"We also told her that if it were her instead of Sirius, you would have led us just the same. She started to cry then, and forbade us from doing any such thing for her." Ginny paused and said in a quieter voice, "I guess she knows that we would never obey that.  
  
"I know it seemed that she and Sirius were always going at it, but I think she really liked him too. It's just—you know mum, she's always been so protective of you."  
  
Harry nodded, the thought if he would try to speak he would cry. He was afraid of crying right now. They way he felt right now, he thought if he started crying it might never end.  
  
After several minutes of silence Harry glanced at his wristwatch, he still had a little time before he needed to add the next ingredients.  
  
Careful to control his voice Harry spoke into the silence, "I didn't realize you and he spoke so much."  
  
Ginny paused looking uncomfortable, "I, well, I sometimes have a lot of trouble sleeping," she said quietly, "Nightmares you know?"  
  
Harry nodded, "Yeah, I know nightmares," his voice dropped to an almost inaudible whisper, "Sometime it doesn't matter if you're awake or asleep, they almost never seem to end." After a moment he looked at her with a just a hint of a smile and gave her hand a small squeeze, in a little louder voice, "Almost."  
  
Ginny had taken to heart what was said and what was left unsaid. She thought he might understand, "I, uh, I still have nightmares about Riddle, the dairy and all," she paused again; "It's not as bad as it used to be, but sometimes. . . ." she trailed off.  
  
She started again after a moment, "Sirius was more of a night bird, so, uh, we got a lot of chances to talk, and I didn't want to disturb Hermione when I woke up in the middle of the night."  
  
Harry looked at her for a few moments, till she began to squirm uncomfortably under his gaze. Finally he spoke in a soft voice, "I didn't know, I didn't know you were having nightmares about it."  
  
Harry watched her closely as she spoke softly, "The summer after first year I had terrible nightmares for most of the summer, but thankfully I never remembered them. By the time school started again they were practically gone."  
  
Harry looked at her questioningly, "Well you remember what happened when we got back to school," the dementors of course, Harry nodded slightly and she continued, "Well after the few times near them the memories and nightmares came back worse. . ."  
  
He nodded again and looked off into space before saying hesitantly, "I haven't been a good friend to you at all have I Ginny?"  
  
She looked at him and realized he blamed himself for this too, "Harry, you couldn't have known. I haven't really told anyone about them." After a few moments of quiet she continued, "At least I got to know Sirius, he was always so understanding about things. We would talk for hours till I guess I was relaxed enough to go back to sleep."  
  
After a moment she said in a bright voice that sounded only slightly forced, "Now thanks to you I'll soon be able to keep the dementors away."  
  
Harry smiled faintly and in a slightly chocked voice said, "He really liked you, you know? He said some really nice things about you."  
  
Ginny noticed a small smile fully appear in the midst of his misery. She couldn't keep the curiosity from her voice, "Harry, what did he say?"  
  
Harry didn't say anything; he was clearly hesitant in telling her. But this was important to her. Sirius was a good friend to her; she was still hurting too, "Please Harry."  
  
He looked her in the eye for a moment before nodding and looking away. "Well one thing he said was that he thought you were my Lily, but I was still a too much of a fifteen year old burke to realize it," a faint blush rose to his cheeks as he said this.  
  
"Who's Lily?" then realization hit her as a matching flush rose on her face, "Oh I, sorry Harry I forgot for a minute."  
  
He reached over and patted her hand reassuringly, he checked his watch again and said, "I have to run down and add the next ingredients to the potion I'm brewing. Uh, do you want anything?"  
  
She smiled warmly at his thoughtfulness, "How about a Butter Beer?"  
  
He returned the smile and said, "No problem."  
  
Harry paused at the kitchen door as he heard his name spoken more than once, by more than one voice. It seemed like tonight's meeting was about him. And right now there were several conversations going on at once. He struggled to hear what they were saying, but he couldn't pick up much, too many people talking at once. Finally he heard Moody's voice cutting over everyone else's, "What I want to know is how Potter was able to slip getting the trunk delivered by one of our watchers. He must've gotten it early on, before we realized he was gonna stay in for the summer." Harry could almost see Moody's glare on everyone in the room.  
  
Harry pushed open the door then and walked over to the counter. He took pulpy roots that were soaking in a copper basin and began chopping them finely. Once done, he added the chopped stems to the mortar, which contained an already powdered unicorn horn. He began combining them into a thick paste.  
  
The Order members were each holding their breath as they watched Harry working at the counter. Apparently no one remembered to put an Imperturbable charm on the door. Each hoped beyond hope that Harry had heard none of the conversation. That hope was lost as Harry turned to them, mortar and pestle in his hands and continued to work the paste. "The problem with doing everything with military precision Moody is that you leave gaps in your defense. By the third night home I knew exactly how long it took you to circle the block."  
  
Everyone sat mute, as they listened to Harry. The quiet way he spoke was somehow worse than if he screamed in a blind rage. Most shifted uncomfortably now, none more than Ron and Hermione though, Ron looked as he wanted to crawl into a hole, Hermione though after hearing Harry's tone had her head down and eyes tightly shut.  
  
"By the fifth night I had the trunk," he said as his eyes moved the Moody's, "What is your eye sticking again?" Harry saw it was, pointing and the wall opposite the door.  
  
"You should have that looked at, constant vigilance. Remember?"  
  
Moody grunted in agreement.  
  
Harry's eyes left Mad Eyes and swept the people around the table, pausing an extra moment on Ron and Hermione. Neither of which looked at him. After a moment he returned to the counter and his work. It took only minutes before the paste was ready to be added to the boiling cauldron. That done he drew his wand and made adjustments to the flames. He lowered them enough to make the potion simmer slowly.  
  
He turned to leave the room but before he took a step he spoke again, "Listen Fred, George, Dung, sorry I got you all involved. I'll take care of things myself in the future."  
  
Dumbledore didn't know what was worse, the tone of his voice or the expression on Harry's face. He struggled for something to say, anything to say. He watched as Harry strode to the door, but stopped abruptly just inside it. He seemed to be looking into space, 'Good,' he thought, 'here will be the anger. And the anger can be dealt with.'  
  
"And Ginny as the distraction, very clever," Harry said softly but loud enough for all to hear.  
  
"Honestly Harry, she didn't know anything about it," Hermione said breathlessly.  
  
Harry looked over his shoulder at her. After a second he nodded despondently and said, "She will be pleased to know."  
  
Harry left the room and the members of the order sat in uncomfortable silence for a quite some time. It was only when Ron jerked out of his chair and stormed from the room did anyone speak. It was Molly who spoke first trying to call her son back, "Ronald Weasley!" But the next sound heard was his voice calling out, "The Burrow!" from the living room fire.  
  
Hermione rose next, she walked with head down out of the room and was heard as Ron was from the fireplace.  
  
Bill spoke next, "Ginny is going to hit the roof when we get home tonight," then almost under his breath he added, "Not that I blame her."  
  
Conversation began again quietly, but not till after Moody clunked across the kitchen and charmed the door.  
  
Harry entered the drawing room quietly, sitting down again next to Ginny. "You forgot the Butter Beer silly," Ginny said smiling. The smile quickly fled at the look on his face. She thought this new face was even worse than the one he had worn most of the night. The bleakness of it caused her to ask, "Harry what's wrong," a little more frantically than she wanted.  
  
Harry forced a smile and shrugged. He didn't know why he didn't just tell her right off. She had the right to know she was being used. If it were he, he'd damn well want to know. With a small sigh he said, "Ron and Hermione are downstairs."  
  
"Oh, I uh, thought we'd get the chance to be alone for once," the disappointment was evident in her voice as she continued, "Well, are they coming up?"  
  
Harry cleared his throat and said, "Uh, no Gin, they are in the meeting."  
  
She stared blankly at him for a minute and he explained, "They're having a meeting about me, I guess they're getting pumped for information."  
  
The pair sat silent for a time before she said softly, "So that's why mum was so insistent that I come here alone tonight," she blushed slightly and hurriedly added, "Not that I didn't want to, I was just. . . just nervous about it."  
  
Harry simply nodded. They sat in silence for a while till she said, "So that's my job, to keep you busy." It came out more as a growl than anything else as her temper flared. Her face began to redden and her hands were clenched in tight fists. A stream of curses that would have made the twins proud came out under her breath. Ginny snapped up from her seat and stormed towards the door. He sat mutely and watched her go; she barely made it past the threshold when she paused. She seemed to be having a silent argument with herself. After a moment she shook her head and returned to sit next to him.  
  
Harry spoke after she settled herself and linked her arm with his, "You know what's funny, they never even bothered to ask me. You would think Remus or Dumbledore. . . ." After a short pause, "I thought at least Remus would've come by to see how I was when I was on Privet Drive."  
  
Ginny looked at him for a moment and then said, "Would you have told either one of them everything they wanted to know?"  
  
Harry thought about it for a moment, "Maybe some of it at least. Now though, I'm sure there are more than a few things they wish I didn't know."  
  
Ginny was watching him closely, she noticed a shiver run down him when he said the last, and she asked quietly, "You're not just talking about Merlin's Fire are you?"  
  
Harry didn't respond, but that was answer enough for Ginny. Her hopes for this of having a quiet evening alone with Harry had long since fled. Well not the quiet part anyway. When she got home though, there would be no quiet. He seemed lost in his own world right now; she truly wished she knew what was going on in his head right now. At least part of her did, the other part was truly frightened of what ever it was that was doing this to him.  
  
She sat quietly watching him for a long time, hoping that he would come out of this funk on his own. Harry it seemed wasn't even aware she was in the same room with him. Well since this evening was shot to hell anyway she thought she might as well ask him something that had been on her mind for the past couple of days. "Harry?"  
  
"Hmm," he said as he turned to look at her.  
  
"I, uh, I was just wondering," she hesitated now, unsure of this request, "Do you think I could use your Pensieve?"  
  
His eyebrows rose slightly, "If you want to," he said quietly, "May I ask why though?"  
  
"Dumbledore told me the book was destroyed, that the Tom Riddle in the book was destroyed, but it's just," she paused again, taking a steadying breath, "Just sometimes in my dreams, I just. . . ."  
  
He reached over and took her hand, and said, "If you think if it will help, but I don't want you to go alone though."  
  
She nodded gratefully; she had actually never intended to go back there alone. She supposed it must have sounded that way to him. He rose, walked across the room and opened a lower door on the sideboard and removed a strange stone basin. It was quite pretty actually, runes cut in the stone circled it, and it was filled just under the rim with a swirling silver liquid. She sat a bit tense right now; it must have showed on her face. Harry reached over and took her hand.  
  
Looking deep into her eyes, he said, "You sure you want to do this?"  
  
Ginny hesitated for a moment, lost in his eyes before she nodded, "Just tell me what to do."  
  
"All you have to do is hold onto my hand."  
  
She nodded as he touched the surface of the silvery pool. Harry heard her gasp as they fell forward. He caught her arm so she wouldn't fall as the landed. He was after all used to the drop by now, and knew what it was like the first time. They landed right behind the younger Harry just as he passed the door into the chamber. Ginny looked around with wide eyes, "Wow, this is amazing," she breathed.  
  
The pair followed the young wary Harry going past column after column, till he stopped to gape at the huge stone statue of Salazar Slytherin. Harry saw himself notice Ginny lying at the statues feet, he watched as this Ginny ran after the sprinting young Harry. He walked over to the scene, just to be close in case Ginny had second thoughts and wanted to leave. He saw her cringe slightly when Tom Riddle spoke, but in a second it was gone. She was now straight backed and seemed ready to throw herself at the ghostly image.  
  
Harry smiled for a moment at her back. He kept near to Ginny, but did not really watch the scene and battle unfolding around him. He studied the chamber, the high arched ceiling was barely in sight. He walked around lost in his own thoughts, wondering why he never came back down here for a better look. In no time at all it seemed he heard a young Ginny's tearful, quaking voice trying desperately to explain what had happened. How she didn't mean for everything to happen, how she had tried to tell him. He wasn't paying much attention though. Harry's eyes were now fixed on the carcass of the dead basilisk. An idea blooming in his mind, he didn't move till he felt Ginny take his arm. He looked to her and saw a wide eyed expression; she seemed at a loss for words.  
  
"You alright?" he asked.  
  
"Harry that was, you were. . ." she halted as he raised a finger to her lips.  
  
"Did you see all you needed to?" he asked almost solemnly.  
  
She nodded, and then grinned at him, "You tried to carry me out." She hugged his arm tighter, wishing he would put his arms around her.  
  
After a few moments of silence, he spoke, "Ginny, would you mind coming with me to see something else. I really don't want to go alone." The second sentence was a bare whisper.  
  
Ginny tensed for a second, she thought she knew where he wanted to go. She didn't want to see how he died. She couldn't allow herself to say no though. "Yes Harry, I'll go with you."  
  
He nodded gratefully as their surroundings began to fog over. For a moment they were both even unable to see each other. When it cleared Ginny saw that they weren't in the ministry, as she had feared. They were in a dilapidated old house. Harry hadn't paused to say anything to her; he followed himself and what had to be Hermione up a dark staircase. Ginny watched the pair in front of her, and it wasn't till they entered the dusty old bedroom, that she knew when this was. This was the night the trio had first met Sirius. She watched in rapt silence and the scene unfolded around her. Her eyes moved off the drama playing out in front of her only once. When Scabbers was revealed as Pettigrew she noticed Harry. She stood frozen in place; the look of cold fury in Harry's whole demeanor was enough to freeze her blood. She hoped no one ever directed that a look of murder like that at her. She wanted to take his hand, she wanted to throw her arms around him and hold him tight. His posture still had her frozen though. After a moment her eyes caught sight of the young Harry leaping in front of Pettigrew. Ginny's eyes widened at this; how could anyone possibly be that noble? Could she ever hope to be?  
  
Her concentration broke again when she heard Harry mutter, "Bloody damn idiot."  
  
They followed close behind, first down the flight of stairs, next down the trap door into the tunnel. Both Ginny and Harry listened to young Harry and Sirius as they spoke for the first time. When Sirius spoke hopefully of the young Harry moving in with him, the Harry of now stopped. He cringed as if in pain, and Ginny saw a single tear roll down his face. She started towards him, this time she would be there for him. This time she would hold him till it came out. She wouldn't let him go till it did. After barely a step the scene began to fade away and they were once again shrouded in the thick fog. She felt Harry take her arm gently as he said quietly, "I'm going to take us back now. We'll be in the same seats as when we left. You won't fall."  
  
Before she could respond they were both doing a backwards summersault into the present day. She rocked awkwardly in her seat, feeling as if she really would fall out of it. She turned to Harry to thank him, but he was looking across the table. She turned her head and gave a start. They were no longer alone in the room, opposite them sat Professor Dumbledore and Remus. Harry eyed both with a blank expression. After getting over her initial surprise Ginny's gaze became very cool towards the pair across from them.  
  
The four sat in uneasy silence for a moment. Remus was the first, "Harry, we both wanted to speak with you. To explain. We were worried you would never talk to us.  
  
Dumbledore sat quietly, saying nothing. Seemingly at ease letting Remus do the talking. "You shouldn't blame Ron and Hermione either," he added hurriedly, "They were, uh, pressured into speaking tonight. They really had no choice.  
  
Several long minutes later, Harry turned to Ginny, "It's getting late, I'll walk you to the fireplace. Goodnight Professors."  
  
Harry either didn't see Remus flinch or didn't care. He led Ginny through the door, though he checked at it. He turned, not looking at the two wizards, went to the table and retrieved his stack of books and his Pensieve. He strode quickly to catch up.  
  
"You can still trust us Harry."  
  
Ginny was startled at the tone of Dumbledore's voice. She had never heard that voice plead. It oddly saddened her. They walked down the stairs silently; she noticed Harry went back for his things. She hoped she could talk to him for a moment before she left. She was disappointed though. Harry made the excuse of work to finish up. He walked to the kitchen without so much as a kiss goodnight. Not the she herself was much in the mood for kissing.  
  
'Might have been nice though,' she thought with a small sigh.  
  
Harry entered the kitchen; several order members were still there talking quietly. There were also several additions to the earlier members. Snape was there now; he was talking with two older witches that Harry didn't recognize. All quieted when he entered. After his initial glance around the room he ignored them. Taking a heavy dishcloth from the counter he lifted the potion from the fire and placed it on the counter. He opened the potions book to the chapter on the potion and read the end again. The creator of the potion also created three spells to test it. As he was ready to cast the first spell the door opened and Remus and Dumbledore entered. The first spell had no effect on the potion. No visible effect meant that he had done a good portion of it right. He cast the second and the steamy white smoke that came from the cauldron turned an awful shade of green. Well he hadn't gotten the potion totally correct. That fact actually came as a relief. Maybe he wasn't a super wizard freak.  
  
"Evanesco," he muttered, pointing his wand.  
  
"Excellent Harry, most excellent. Most wizards don't even get close on their first attempt," Dumbledore said in what was obviously a forced bright voice.  
  
Harry shrugged, picked up all his things and left the room without another word.  
  
Remus stared after the door feeling forlorn. He wished it were in him to run after Harry, to make things right.  
  
"He does still care about you Remus that has not changed."  
  
"How can you be so sure Albus?"  
  
Dumbledore motioned to where Harry had been working, "Did you not notice the potion Harry was working on?" he asked quietly.  
  
Remus shook his head.  
  
With a small smile Dumbledore said, "I do not think he was attempting Wolf's Bane potion for his own consumption."  
  
Remus gave a weak smile.  
  
"Perhaps tomorrow he would be more amenable to a conversation."  
  
"Perhaps," responded Remus without much hope.

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	10. The Wedding Part I

Chapter Ten: The Wedding part I  
  
When Dumbledore entered the kitchen of headquarters on Friday evening he found Remus sitting alone sipping tea and reading the evening edition of the Prophet.  
  
"Good evening Remus. How is Harry today?"  
  
"Hello Albus, I have no idea. He hasn't left his room all day," with a small sigh added, "Damned if I know if he's even up there."  
  
Dumbledore sat across from him, pouring himself a cup of tea. Remus continued, "Ginny came over, earlier in the day. She pounded on his door for a good, long time with no answer.  
  
"Finally she came down and asked me if I could open it for her. I didn't think it was a good idea. I thought though, it would be a worse idea to say no to Ginny. She looked to be in rare form," he gave Dumbledore a sidelong look before continuing, "From what I could tell by a brief inspection he has at least six different locking charms on the door and I believe half that many traps laid on it.  
  
"Nothing too nasty. . . I think I could get through the door with enough time. . ." his look darkened, "But I think that might be a grave mistake for anyone to try."  
  
After a moment of silence he received a reply, "I spoke to Molly earlier," Dumbledore said with a sigh, "Apparently life was far from peaceful at the Burrow last night and this morning.  
  
"Ginny was more than furious and her temper could be a match for Harry's or even mine."  
  
"Do you really blame her Albus? We used her, we used her feelings for Harry and his for her," Remus continued over Dumbledore as he started to speak, "No matter how good our reasons were.  
  
"I seriously doubt Harry will come to any of us now for help or advice. You heard what he said to the twins and Mundungus. He won't ask them for help anymore. He said he would take care of it on his own. Mundungus told me about some of the wizards he met with to get those books; we Do Not want Harry meeting with these people on his own."  
  
Dumbledore sat quietly; he had the same fears as the rest. He wanted to groan at the mistakes that seemed to be piling up when it came to Harry. How to stop Harry from doing whatever he pleased though? Perhaps he should speak to Amelia Bones about revoking the underage Wizarding exemption. Even if he could convince her, it would in all likelihood make matters much, much worse. Never in his long life had he felt this uncertain of his actions, his every decision when it came to Harry made matters so much worse.  
  
Remus watched Dumbledore in silence for a time then said, "I did try to smooth things over with Ginny. Not that I had much luck. She had trouble even being barely civil to me.  
  
"She did say a couple of things though," he said hesitantly, "First she demanded to know why I hadn't at least gone to see Harry once when he was alone at Privet Drive, she seemed furious with herself for not taking matters in her own hands and going to see him.  
  
"Secondly she demanded to know why neither you nor I ever bothered to sit down and try to talk to Harry about things instead of using her to go around his back.  
  
"She didn't even bother waiting for an answer. After I told her I couldn't open the door, she left."  
  
"I wish he would come down and talk to us now," said Dumbledore.  
  
"Even if he came down right now Albus, I don't think there's a chance in hell of getting a word out of him. And if we did I doubt either one of us would like it."  
  
Harry woke after little sleep on Friday morning. His nightmares seemed ten times worse than they had ever been before. He started several times during the night, convinced that his hands were covered in blood. Ginny's blood, Weasley blood, his friends, his family all dead. Dead before he could finish his task. Most of these images weren't entirely new, and by seeing them so often he was slightly desensitized to them. Most, but now though there were new faces mixed along with the old. Faces he had only seen in the moving pictures of the Daily Prophet, all the people that have been killed since his enemy's rebirth.  
  
"My fault, all bloody my fault," he muttered as he rose from the big four-poster.  
  
After a few moments he walked to the washroom and splashed cold water over his face. He woke up a bit more, but the fear and guilt stayed with him. He stripped off his pajamas and slipped into his brown robes, which were beginning to look a bit ragged. The memories of yesterday were coming back to him now. That added to the hurt on top of his already foul mood. He thought of going down to the kitchen for tea, but the thought of facing anyone caused him to stop. He checked the charms and hexes on the door, seeing that they seemed to be untouched he dropped down into his trunk. Harry spent a solitary day first doing memory rituals then going through his Forms. Over and over he did this. The ache of his body, the weariness of it all barely touched his conscience mind. He worked throughout the day and well into the night, stopping only when he passed out on the cool stone floor out of total exhaustion.  
  
Harry leapt up, twin fiery orbs of Living Fire poised to launch in both his hands. He turned about, unsure of where he was. Phantom images still whirling about in his mind, his breath came harsh and ragged. In a moment he realized how badly his body ached. With a groan he clamped his hands down on the fire, and he fell to his knees. After a few moments his breathing calmed. He was able to push some of his latest nightmares from his mind.  
  
He stood slowly, readying to begin the Forms again. Forcing the ache of his body and magic from his mind took a lot longer then ever before. Every time he was close to the mental state of clarity he needed, memories or sharp pain came though and he had to start anew. When he was finally able to accomplish this, his mind was empty as he floated from position to position, from move to move. His mind lost in the void, his magic his only guide. It went on for a time unknown to Harry, till his eyes refocused. He looked around the room, unsure of what happened. It took only a moment for him to realize. A real, full smile appeared on his face for the first time in days. He had done it! He had gotten through his first complete set of Forms. The Warriors had told him it could take anywhere from a couple of weeks to two months or more to get through his first complete set. Harry supposed the reflexes born of his Quidditch training had given him the edge in completing them quicker. Now he could begin the rest of his training regime. He would need to get the weapons to train with before he could begin, that was a problem for later. Deciding on settling on his first completion as a small victory, he decided not to work any longer for today. 'Perhaps a bit of relaxing before the wedding,' he considered.  
  
'Damn, I never asked Ginny what time I have to be there,' he thought foolishly.  
  
After taking a long hot shower that loosened a good number of his tight muscles he dressed in his now customary black. Using his wand he shot warm air out of it, drying his still unruly, longish hair. Using a piece of black ribbon and pulled the front of his hair back into a small ponytail, high on the back of his head. His scar was more noticeable now, without the customary fringe that covered it. Harry had long since decided not to hide who he was, unless of course stealth was needed. He walked down to the living room, hearing voices coming from the kitchen.  
  
Going over to the fireplace he took a pinch of Floo Powder, kneeling before it he tossed it into the small flames, saying, "The Burrow!"  
  
A moment later he was looking out of the fireplace just as Mrs. Weasley entered the room, "Oh good morning Harry dear," she said with apprehension tinged her usual bright voice.  
  
"Morning," Harry said cautiously, "Uh, is Ginny around?"  
  
"No I'm sorry, she, Fleur and the rest of the girls are picking up their dress robes and are all getting their hair and things done.  
  
"I should be with them, but with the problems last night," she sighed, "Trying to figure out how to fix everything in time."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
Molly heard the change in Harry's voice even if his expression stayed the same, "Rain, Harry dear. It stormed most of the night, terrible wind and lightning. With the protection spells over the area around the clearing neither Arthur or Bill could cast even a simple weather repellent spell," she sighed deeply, "With everyone trying to get last minute preparations done; the meadow is still a swamp.  
  
"The tables and chairs blew all over the place and tree limbs all over. I don't know how we are going to get everything ready in time."  
  
Harry thought about it for a moment, "Mrs. Weasley, let me get my things together for later and I, uh, I could start getting things ready."  
  
Molly stood a little surprised, with all that happened she would have thought Harry would be resentful of everything and everyone. Here he was offering his help. She considered him for a moment, seeing his chalky pallor and the heavy bags under his eyes, actually looking hopeful to be able to help.  
  
"It's up to you dear; it's a lot of work to do by hand though. The sun is also very hot today; you don't have to do it. We will get it done somehow."  
  
"Well I can use magic you know," as Mrs. Weasley's expression started to darken he quickly added, "Madam Bones gave me full dispensation from the underage wizarding laws. I can use magic anytime I want as long as I responsible about it."  
  
She hadn't known about that, before she could respond though, Harry added quietly, "It would be nice to be able to spend the day outside. I really haven't been able to spend the day in the sun since school ended.  
  
"And I'd really like to do this for Bill and Fleur."  
  
Molly Weasley looked at his too pale and hopeful face. A face she couldn't bear to say no to, she smiled warmly to him, "Alright Harry dear, if you really want to."  
  
Harry returned the warm smile and said, "I'll just get my things together, Falcore and I will be over soon." With that he pulled out of the fire.  
  
Before going to get his things he made his way into the kitchen. There were only half a dozen members in attendance. It quieted as soon as he entered. He didn't recognize most of them, but Moody was there.  
  
"Morning everyone, Moody you know where Remus is?"  
  
Moody observed him cautiously before answering, his blue magical eye seemed to check him from top to bottom, "He started working with the twins today. You need something?"  
  
"No, I'm heading over to the Burrow early, in case anyone is looking for me."  
  
Moody looked at him considering for a moment before saying gruffly, "Keep your eyes open, Dumbledore and I'll be by later on to check the spells."  
  
Harry nodded and left the room. Harry wasn't sure why he had gone into the kitchen to tell Remus he was leaving early, force of habit he supposed. He gathered his robes, gift (he had forgotten to ask Ginny what he was giving) and the rest of his things together. As soon as he was finished he called over to Falcore to join him. A moment later the feeling of being safe in a blanket of fire consumed him. The next moment he was standing next to the hearth at the Burrow.  
  
He heard someone gasp behind him, as he turned Molly said in a slightly sharp voice, "Harry, when did you learn to apparate, and how did you get past the shields?"  
  
Harry smiled at her, "I didn't learn to apparate yet and anti-apparition wards don't work on Phoenix's or house elves."  
  
She looked at him for a moment and said, "I did not know that." She walked over and gave him a motherly hug and passed him a long sheet of parchment. "This is the way everything is supposed to be set up Harry dear. Now don't exert yourself. I'll send Arthur and the boys to help you just as soon as they return.  
  
"Here give me your things; I'll press your robes for later. My, aren't these lovely?" she said as she fingered the rich black robes that he had found in his trunk.  
  
Harry walked down the path to the meadow that they all had played Quidditch on. Falcore sat lightly on his shoulder and the bright sun shone down on them. It was a hot day today, the sun felt excellent though. He had almost forgotten what it felt like. Unrolling the parchment Harry looked it over as he walked. It was a simple drawing showing how the tables were to be set up along with the other details. Harry was glad Falcore sat on his shoulder, he was glad they were outside together. So far it was a most excellent day, soon enough they had made it to the paddock.  
  
Mrs. Weasley was right about it being a swamp. Puddles the size of small ponds covered most of what could be seen of the floor, the rough patches of grass looked drowned and lank. The rest of the ground was covered with the muddy or broken pieces of tables and chairs.  
  
"Must've been some storm," he said absently to Falcore, getting a single chirp in response.  
  
As he walked around surveying the damage he saw the split rail fence surrounding the paddock was broken away in many places. As he strolled, he saw a good number of the whitewashed wooden chairs as well as a few tables were in pieces. He continued forward, passed what had to be a rather large conjured wooden deck that he saw on the parchment was a dance floor.  
  
"Ahg," he groaned as he remembered that Ginny would probably want to dance tonight. This made his stomach give a little flutter, his first sign of nerves. As he passed the raised platform that was set up for the band, he thought he should concentrate on what he was doing before nerves really took hold.  
  
He turned left at the end of the bandstand and headed towards another area. At one end stood a small, mud covered, white gazebo. Between Harry and the Gazebo, there must have been one hundred wooden folding chairs. He supposed before the storm they sat in neat little rows for the guests to watch the ceremony. Now though this area was like the rest, a complete wreck.  
  
The prospect of so much work didn't really bother Harry; he was actually looking forward to it. He paused to figure out the best course of action. After several moments he spun, Falcore sensing what he was about to do took off at the same moment. His wand came out in one motion as he moved. He set a pale blue spell streaming from his wand. It hit the ground in a clear spot between the two areas. The spell trailed against the ground away from him, drying an area three paces wide by five long. A simple Drought Charm, he was slightly surprised he even remembered it. He had never tried it before. The spell was something Hermione found in an old spell book before the second task of the Tri-Wizards tournament. He went into a forward roll onto the dry area and came up casting another. He went through parts of his Forms as if he was in battle with the ground around him. Falcore circled above him, as if waiting to join the battle. It felt good to be out under the sun, not thinking about death and dying for a change. Part of his new found instincts guiding him through the drying.  
  
After a while Harry stopped his minor spell work. He now had what should be a satisfactorily big enough area. Thinking he would practice as many new things as he could today, he used his wand and his hand to levitated tables and chairs to the now dry area.  
  
Pointing his wand and his open hand he cried, "Wingardium Leviosa!"  
  
This turned out to be a very bad idea. He knew it as soon as it was cast. He immediately felt the strain on his magic. He grunted softly as a table and eight chairs flew into the air. He tried to steady the load and settle it back down without damage. Before he could he lost the balance, the spells crossed and the table whipped into the chairs, smashing half to pieces. Breaking off the spell the table and chairs sped down, destroying another couple of chairs.  
  
As he stood trying to figure out how it went so badly wrong, Falcore let out a burst of song that sound surprisingly like a chuckle. Harry frowned up at the bird and shook his head ruefully.  
  
"What if I only use my wand and just open the field a bit to lift them all at once," he mumbled under his breath.  
  
The next moment the table and all the bits of chair rose smoothly off the ground, he floated them over to the dry area. It was still difficult to control so many items at once. The crash of everything hitting the ground instead of landing softly could attest to that. He worked the spell again and again, getting better results and a finer touch as he went along. Some time later he had all the tables and chairs placed haphazardly onto the dry area.  
  
This already was quite a lot of work. Not that he felt remotely tired yet. The dull ache of his magical core was still there, had been there for days actually. But what he had done so far wasn't enough to tire him. The heat of the sun though had him covered in sweat. Without a thought he pulled off his black tee shirt and used it to wipe the sweat from his brow. Tossing it over the back of a fairly clean chair he set about to dry out the rest of the ground.  
  
Finally done with that part of it Harry took another good look around. The entire paddock was now dry, too dry. The grass of the clearings' ground was sparse, and what there was of it looked as if this really had been a swamp a short time ago. The rest of the ground was dusty soil, lifting into the air even with the slightest breeze. Luckily that memory transfer he did several nights ago contained just the spell he needed.  
  
"Gramen Orior," he said pointing his wand at a bare stretch. A patch of green appeared where he had aimed. Harry went over and kneeled next to the spot. Checking his results he saw that the grass was much too long, and it hadn't grown in very thick. Thinking about it for a few minutes he decided on how to slightly alter the spell results. It took several tries to get the effect he wanted, then several more to enlarge the spell enough so it wouldn't take hours.  
  
Not too long later Harry stood in the center of an ocean of blue/green perfection. He stood with a happy little smile on his face, the slight breeze ruffling his hair, and bringing the scent of freshly cut grass. For a change feeling happy and content. Not really considering why he seemed to remember things so much easier now or how altering spells came so naturally. He was just reveling in feeling the joy of working his magic.  
  
A couple of hours later all the tables and chairs were repaired, scrubbed clean, and set into position. It was then Harry realized how thirsty he was. He could really go for a cold glass of pumpkin juice. He started to walk back to the burrow, but stopped abruptly.  
  
'What if I see Ron and Hermione?' he thought suddenly. It just occurred to him that he was a little hurt and angry with them both. He really didn't want to be, but now that the thought had come up, so had the feelings. Since Harry only learned how to conjure hot tea and a few types of biscuits he contented himself with taking a drink of lukewarm water that shot from the end of his wand.  
  
Ginny exited the fireplace at the Burrow, a thin white cloth wrapped around her head and shoulders. It covered all her hair and most of her face, only her eyes peeked through. After spending so much time getting her hair done, and her faced painted she'd be damned if she let it get ruined with soot from the fireplace. She stepped quickly from in front of the hearth, one of her younger cousins would be emerging from it soon enough. Careful not to muss her hair she unwrapped the cloth, looking at the amount of soot on it, she was glad the beautician witch had suggested it. The living room in front of her was fast filling up with women, most all with red hair of varying hues. All were her aunt's and cousins, sipping tea and catching up on family news, though all weren't there yet even now a pair of great-aunt's walked through the door. Almost all of the adult witches apparated to an area just beyond the burrow, outside of the wards. She didn't know where her father, brothers or uncles were. She had heard her mother barking orders to them early this morning; the only boy present was her cousin Willem. He was a precious little boy; he had strawberry blond hair and was as sweet as anything. She smiled when he looked over to him. He was lying on the floor at one end of the room slowly reading a stack of Ron's old comic books.  
  
"Oh there you are Ginny luv," her mum said from behind her, "Here let me have a look at you."  
  
Her mother's eyes scrutinized her closely, from her hair, to the paint on her face, even down to her fingernails, which were also painted. Fleur had insisted on it, Ginny had never tried it before, but she liked how nice her hands now looked. Her mother's smile shone like the sun after a moment, "You look lovely Ginny."  
  
Ginny couldn't help but grin at her mother. She made a pact with herself last night; she would not blush for every small thing, but this little compliment, even from her mother in front of her whole family caused her to struggle.  
  
The Weasley family crowded the living room and the kitchen, chatting loudly and happily. Sipping tea, nibbling scones and finger sandwiches. Ginny's hadn't stopped smiling since she woke this morning. It wasn't often that the whole Weasley clan was able to get together. Her age put her in the middle of her cousins, but the rest were either a lot older, married with children of their own or much younger, years away from Hogwarts. She circulated around the room, chatting with everyone, mostly talking of school, and the summer holidays. A couple of her great aunt's though wanted to speak to her about Quidditch, very impressed that she was the Gryffindor seeker. Apparently they were house players half a century ago, one from her own house and one from Ravenclaw. The pair frowned around the rest of the room, as if disappointed that no other women had played since their own time. She avoided talking about the reason why she was seeker and not Harry. She had made it clear though that this year she would be playing as chaser, her preferred position. That made both smile broadly, as they both played as chasers in their youth. They spoke for a long time about strategy and Quidditch cups that had been won, it was a conversation that Ron would have loved. She had to remember to tell him to talk to their aunts before they left.  
  
Ginny had been talking and eating, chatting happily for a long while, until her father's oldest sister, her aunt Margery called a question over to her, "Ginny dear, we all know that this lovely young lady here," she said motioning towards Hermione, "is Ron's escort this evening. What about you, will there be a handsome young wizard coming later to be your date?"  
  
Ginny froze, she felt like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She felt her face warm, but she fought it back as hard as she could. She just noticed many conversations pause as the women waited for an answer. "Uh, yes auntie Margery, uh, his name is Harry." 'There, that wasn't so bad,' she thought in relief.  
  
"Harry who, dear?" her aunt asked.  
  
Ginny looked at her for a moment, she would have thought her mum would've told everyone by now, but her aunt's just seemed merely curious. "Uh, well, um, Harry Potter."  
  
All conversation stopped abruptly, all eyes turned to her. Ginny froze again, she saw Hermione give her a sympathetic look. She ignored the look; she hadn't spoken more than three words to her or Ron since that night, well three words that weren't shouted.  
  
After a moment, her aunt continued, "You're not. . . you are serious? Molly has told us that he and Ron were great friends. . . Well we'll be happy to meet the boy," she said with a broad smile and left it at that.  
  
Ginny though it wouldn't be so bad, but soon was assaulted with questions, and not just from the young ones. Soon a good number of the adults were calling out questions about Harry too. Ginny felt the impulse to run, she held it off barely and said nervously, "Uh, I should give him a fire-call. I never told him what time to come."  
  
She turned to dash into the kitchen, which was now mostly empty, since everyone seemed to be in here watching her. Before she could take a step, her mum spoke up from behind her, "He's already here Ginny dear.  
  
The women in the room jerked there heads back and forth as if he was in the room and they missed him. Molly was giving Ginny an amused smile before continuing, "He fire-called for you this morning. When he heard about the storm, he insisted on coming over and lending a hand."  
  
That made her grin broadly to her mother, Harry was rightly upset with everyone, and yet he still came there to do the right thing and help. It made her feel even more pride for him. Molly was watching Ginny closely, her eyes twinkling, she spoke before Ginny could, "I made him a lunch basket. Honestly I'm sure that boy would waste away to nothing if I didn't remind him to eat." The affection evident to all those that were there, she continued, "Why don't you take it over to him now?"  
  
Ginny smiled gratefully at her for a moment before all the children were surrounding her, begging to come with her to see the famous Harry Potter. She couldn't make her voice heard over all the young high-pitched voices.  
  
Luckily her mother spoke over them all, "We'll all go over and see how it's coming when Fleur and Gabrielle get here. I'm sure she'll be finished with her hair soon enough. Her tone quieted the children quickly. She leaned towards Ginny, speaking quietly into her ear, "At least he'll be able to eat in peace. And you can warn him of what's coming."  
  
Ginny laughed and nodded gratefully. She picked up the basket, and swept out of the room before someone decided to ignore her mother and join her. She strolled up the worn path, the picnic basket hanging off one arm, idly examining her fingernails. She really liked the way they looked. Ginny had to admit that she was always more than a bit of a tomboy. It was a nice change to be all primped, hair and nails done and a brand new summer dress. She suddenly wondered what Harry would think, her free hand went up to the side of her elaborately braided, twisted and curled hair. 'Since when have you ever cared what he thought of how you looked?' she thought loftily.  
  
That thought lasted only a moment though. Even while she was dating Michael Corner, Harry always occupied a corner of her mind, whether she wanted him there or not. She had cared very much what Harry thought of her from the first time she ever saw him. Part of her was very glad Harry was oblivious of her for such a long time. God, if he had seen some of things she had done back then, she'd never be able to face him now. The more Ginny thought about it though, she realized there was a bit of hurt at not being noticed until she made Seeker.  
  
"Boys," she muttered disparagingly.  
  
Soon enough she came to the edge of the clearing. She heard Falcore's faint singing, and what she thought was Harry laughing. She suddenly wondered if someone had gotten here before her. She frowned at that, and instead of continuing on the trail she crept along the apple trees till she came to the very edge of the paddock. Peeking around a rather large trunk her frown disappeared, it turned to an open mouthed gape.  
  
She saw Falcore high in the air, near the far end of the clearing. Harry was hanging from the phoenix's talons with one arm; with his free arm he was casting spells at the apple trees. Wherever the spells hit, the trees suddenly bloomed with apple blossoms. Ginny couldn't help but smile at how happy Harry looked. As Harry and Falcore turned away from her to spell another tree she was able to get a good look around. Her eyes widened. She was here this morning and had known the conditions. She never expected what she saw now.  
  
The ocean of grass before her was perfect, all the chairs and tables clean and whole. Now the apple trees surrounding everything were covered with pink and white blossoms, the whole clearing looked wonderful. By the time her eyes returned to the spot where Harry had been, she couldn't find him. After a minute of scanning the sky, her gaze returned to ground level. There he was, his back to her, Falcore resting on his shoulder. Ginny noticed how much thinner he looked now, though the muscles along his back, arms and shoulders were clearly defined. She noticed long marks along his back; she thought they must just be dirt. She observed him for quite some time, a strange smile on her face. He seemed to be talking to Falcore. Slowly he turned, his posture changed from relaxed to slightly wary.  
  
She got a look at the front of him now, and made a little sound in the back of her throat when she saw more clearly defined muscles. Harry suddenly called out, "I know someone is out there, please come out into the open," strange that even as polite as he sounded there was no missing the command in his voice.  
  
Ginny hesitated a moment, checking her dress and raising a hand to her hair, making sure that all was in order, then came out from behind the tree. She saw even at a distance Harry's smile return even wider than it had been. They both quickly closed the distance between them, and met in almost the center of the clearing stopping less than a foot apart.  
  
Harry spoke first, "Wow Ginny, you look. . . wow."  
  
Ginny was very pleased inside, that her appearance had left him mostly speechless. Actually there was a warmth that filled her as he continued to be at a loss. She merely smiled at him, letting him be dumbstruck for a while; it was doing wonders for her ego.  
  
"How did you know I was here?" she asked curiously.  
  
Finally he came to himself, and said with a grin, "A little bird told me." Falcore seeming to take offense at the 'little bird' comment, and nipped his ear playfully.  
  
Ginny though was looking at him puzzled. It was obvious she wondered if Falcore truly told him or if he just pulling her leg. Harry lost himself again looking at her; he wondered how girls got their hair to do that. And that make-up, it made her look, not prettier, no not that, Ginny looked pretty first thing in the morning till bedtime. No it made her look older and somewhat exotic. Also the dress she was wearing, it was shorter than anything he'd seen her in, and it fit so snuggly. He never had a chance before to really see her figure. After a bit of a struggle he was able to find his voice again, but not till he looked away from her, "Well what do you think?" he said as he gestured around.  
  
She didn't answer right away; when Harry looked over at her again he saw she was staring at his chest and belly, a dark frown on her face. He looked down; he made a pained face then. He had forgotten the bruises. The bruises from his brutal dueling match of several days past. "Harry what. . ."  
  
He cut her off by lifting his arm, calling "Accio!" His tee-shirt flew into his hand not a second later. Quickly pulling it over his head, he said in a more cautious voice, "So you never said if you like it?"  
  
Ginny frowned, but thought better of questioning him now, making sure her voice was as bright as it had been, "It looks beautiful, perfect!"  
  
"No," he frowned slightly, "not perfect yet, but I have a few more ideas," he said thoughtfully.  
  
She looked at him curiously, but when he didn't say anything else said, "Mum packed you a lunch. Why don't we find some shade and you can eat."  
  
Harry lead them to the nearest tree, when they got there Ginny was frustrated that she wasn't her usual tomboy self, as the pretty summer dress wasn't really made to sit on the ground. Harry caught on right away and with a way of his wand a large yellow blanket appeared. She smiled broadly at him, at his thoughtfulness. She sat carefully; tucking her toned and nicely tanned legs underneath her. She saw Harry look away quickly as she turned her attention back to him. 'He was checking out my legs,' Ginny thought very pleased, 'I should dress up more often.' They spoke casually of tonight's festivities as Harry munched on some tasty sandwiches and gulped from a small jug of iced pumpkin juice. Both it seemed were careful not to discuss the events of when they last spent anytime together.  
  
After eating and talking quietly Harry and Ginny made their way to the fence hand in hand. He showed her his idea for chest high, green shrubbery filled with different color flowers that would block out most of the decrepit looking fence that surrounded the area. The first problem was that the shrubbery would take a lot of time to conjure, and then he had to go back and add the flowers. Ginny was quick to see the problem and point it out.  
  
"Well you're just going to have to help me," Harry said sweetly.  
  
Ginny frowned at him and said, "You know I want to, but you know I'm not allowed to use magic," she gave him a playful smile and said, "We all can't be as lucky as the famous Harry Potter. Honestly, getting dispensation with two years left of school."  
  
Harry took both her hands in his, enjoying this playfulness said, "Well since you are, er, friends, uh with the famous Harry Potter you should know by now that he has a way for you to get away with using magic. For a couple of hours at least."  
  
She looked at him, eyes opened a little wider and smile broadening, "You're serious? You have a way for me to get around the underage wizarding restrictions?"  
  
Harry's smile matched hers, "Yes I am. When Ron," Ginny saw a hint of hurt in Harry's eyes at her brothers name, "told me he was working with the twins I figured he could use it. The twins could cast the Masking Charm on him, and he'd be safe for two hours."  
  
Ginny thought better of discussing her brother, especially when she was angry as well, quickly agreed to Harry casting the charm on her. It was odd, he aimed the spell at her chest but it pulled up over her head and exploded silently into silvery little sparkles that covered her completely, and disappeared a second later.  
  
Ginny gave an odd sort of laugh, "You know I just thought of something. That first night at headquarters, I did magic. I never even thought about it then, I was just worried about you. I wonder why I never got caught for that?" then after a pause, "Or Hermione for that matter."  
  
Harry's smile slipped slightly, but Ginny didn't notice as she was considering her own question. Harry knowing the answer said, "It was a minor spell, not much power behind it. The Fidelius Charm on the place is more than powerful enough to dissipate the magical signatures of such low power spells."  
  
Ginny looked at him for a moment and said softly, "Do you know everything now Harry?"  
  
Harry shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably and replied, "Protection charms were one of the first absor. . . of the first things I studied," looking off into space he said, "Wanted to know as much as I could about spells that would be around me. Don't know too much about the casting really, just the strengths and weaknesses of a bunch of them."  
  
Ginny had heard her parents speaking with Remus and Professor Dumbledore about Absorption Rituals. She was sure that was what Harry was about to say. She didn't know anything about them, but from the few words she had overheard it was a very dangerous thing. Why though she couldn't say. She felt Harry slipping away from her, she quickly said, "Well, are you going to show me what you want me to help with before this charm wears off?"  
  
Harry showed her how to conjure bunches of tiny flowers and how to change their colors. He was pleased at how quickly and deftly Ginny handled the moderately difficult spell. Conjuring the hedges was still the real problem. It seemed as if there were miles of fence; it would take forever the way he was doing it. He had to find a faster way. He asked Ginny to step away for a few minutes as he worked it out.  
  
Nearly an hour later Harry stood alone in the center of the clearing. Eyes mostly closed, arms forward and his fingers waggling slightly. The look of concentration on his face and the sweat on his brow showed how difficult it was to control this conjuring. His body slowly rotated as the shrubbery grew. He was vaguely aware of Ginny not far behind, carefully choosing the colors of the buds she was adding. He once caught her watching him, a small smile on her face. He was vaguely aware that Dumbledore and Moody had just arrived and were watching him work. Falcore had let him know well before they reached the edge. Falcore was also high enough now to let him know a large group of women were making their way here. He just needed to concentrate for a bit longer. Holding this spell wandless for so long was a real test of everything he had worked on. He was having trouble keeping a tight rein on it, his magic wanted to go out of control without the focus point of a wand to keep it in check. With the fatigue that was setting in his body began to tremble and control was becoming more of a problem. He fought to keep his knees from folding up on him. More than three quarters of the fence was done, he just needed a little more time to finish.  
  
Molly and Fleur were the first to arrive, arm in arm, trailed by the rest of the women. Gabrielle, Fleur's younger sister had made fast friends with a few of the younger girls, and walked towards the back of the group. Most of the French family including their parents wouldn't be arriving for hours. When the pair made it up to where Dumbledore and Moody stood, both gasped loudly, seemingly awestruck at the loveliness before them.  
  
It was then Molly noticed Ginny using magic at the opposite end, she was about to call out and reprimand her daughter sharply when Dumbledore spoke quietly, "Try not to disturb Harry yet. He is doing something rather delicate. Something I've never quite seen the like of." If the attention of all the women wasn't on Harry, it was now.  
  
Luckily Dumbledore spoke just in time, as Fleur seemed to want to run out and hug the stuffing out of Harry in gratitude. "But Ginny. Albus, if the ministry sensors pick up her using magic like this," Molly had a dark look on her face.  
  
Moody suddenly chuckled, "Don't you worry Molly, it seems Potter came up with something for that."  
  
Before Molly could ask though, Harry's arms came down, finished with his spell work. He bent at the waist; hand on thighs breathing as if he had just run miles. He thought it was a wonder that he wasn't flat on his face. Fleur disentangled her arm from Molly's and ran gracefully to Harry. He came up just in time to be caught in her arms, receiving two fierce kisses on each cheek. Harry felt himself blush as the emotion driven Veela side of her came to the surface. She took his arm as she realized how unsteady on his feet he was. Ginny hurried over to join them, she was grinning broadly at Harry's blushing. Ginny seemed to see Fleur struggling to hold Harry up, she moved quickly to take his other arm.  
  
When she saw Ginny do this Fleur smiled widely at Ginny, turning slightly to look at her sister said, "You see Gabrielle, our new sister knows how to choose a proper man for herself. You vill learn soon enough."  
  
Harry tried not to laugh, but ended up snorting as Ginny turned a bright red, at the look she gave him though he turned quickly and said to Gabrielle with a little bow of his head, "Bonjour Gabrielle. Il est bon de vous vor."  
  
Gabrielle immediately went pink, and her expression. 'Oh no!' Harry thought frantically, 'Not another little Ginny!' His face let none of it show though, that was until he noticed all the women walking up to them gaping at him.  
  
"Ooh, 'Arry it looks vonderful. You did such a job for me. And you speak French now, your accent needs a little work but it is très bon."  
  
Harry barely heard her, he was a bit frozen at being the center of attention all of a sudden. He glanced at Ginny who seemed to notice his discomfort and gave him an amused smile. She said very sweetly, but low enough that only he and Fleur heard, "Oh Harry I forgot, mum said to warn you of this mob coming to gawp at you."  
  
'This is what I get for laughing at her,' he thought ruefully.  
  
Harry gathered his strength up, pulling away from the two half holding him up, turned to all the people and said brightly, "Hello everyone!" The stares from all around were beginning the get to him.  
  
He received a chorus of hellos in return. Professor Dumbledore spoke up next, "Some very interesting spell-work on your part Harry."  
  
Harry nodded, his smile cooling a bit. Molly must have motioned some of the women away as they stopped surrounding him and began to take a better look around.  
  
"Might I ask how long it took you to alter the original spell to fit your needs?" he asked casually.  
  
Harry thought it sounded a bit too casual and answered slowly, "Uh . . . a few minutes I suppose." He began to stiffen in annoyance as Dumbledore didn't respond; he just gave him the usual piercing gaze. He did notice a few of the witches watching closely, an older pair frowning shrewdly at his answer.  
  
It seemed he was the center of attention again, it was worse now though, as there was a horde of awestruck young witches at the fore of the group. It was then Mrs. Weasley spoke in a low sharp voice, "Ginny, you know you are not allowed to use magic outside of school. Honestly, that's all we need today is the ministry coming to call with one of those letters." She also shot Harry a rare disapproving look.  
  
Moody broke in before Harry or Ginny could respond, "As I said Molly, Potter here came up with something so the ministry is none the wiser. For a time at least." He turned his attention to Harry now, "You know Masking Charms are dead illegal, don't you Potter," his voice turned harsher.  
  
Harry saw Mrs. Weasley scowl worse at him. He said quickly, "Almost all are Moody, those that hide large spells or dark magic certainly are." He shrugged, "But for some reason a spell just to get around the underage wizarding laws isn't."  
  
Moody's eyebrows rose and a grin began to spread, "Been looking into this subject, have you Potter?"  
  
Harry shrugged again, "I didn't come up with the trunk idea right off," this conversation was taking a turn to where he didn't want it. He looked over to Mrs. Weasley and put on his most wide-eyed, innocent face and said, "Sorry Mrs. Weasley, but I, er, it really needed a woman's touch."  
  
Molly harrumphed, though her attitude lifted at his charm and took a good look around her and had to admit it was worth it. "Yes Harry dear, I can see that. You two did a wonderful job."  
  
Harry wanting to escape any further questions and stares quickly said to Fleur and Ginny, "There was just one more thing I wanted to do here, and I think everything will be as perfect as I could make it." Harry made his escape with Ginny on one arm and Fleur on the other. As much as Harry didn't really like it they were still half holding him upright but it was still a necessity at that point.  
  
They spoke quietly as they made their way to the gazebo. Harry and Ginny both were doing their best to keep their expressions as Fleur expressed how happy she was that they were together. Fleur seemed to read their struggles and was clearly enjoying making the pair squirm. Harry quickly described his idea to trail variegated ivy over the posts and attach tiny white rosebuds to it. Fleur absolutely adored the idea.  
  
She joined in the spelling and the three had it completed rather quickly, all done under the careful observation of the children. In truth Harry merely showed the spells and the two had done it as he watched. He was really too tired to join right in. He watched the children supposedly watching the spell-work, but it seemed they more concerned with watching every move he made more than the magic itself. He saw Mrs. Weasley and the rest of the women were walking around the paddock. Checking that all the tables and chairs were correct, it seemed that each one of them would also cast glances his way often.  
  
The three sat on the wide steps of the gazebo talking quietly for a while. They first spoke of the attack on Harry. He held Ginny's hand and with Fleur acting as part big sister and part old friend it was a lot easier to talk. She carefully skirted the subject of Sirius, offering her condolences without bringing up too much of his sadness. Harry finally noticed that Hermione was with the large group of women, when she noticed him noticing her she tried to hide behind Mrs. Weasley. There was that twinge of hurt and his feeling of not wanting it there.  
  
He sighed to himself or thought he did till Ginny asked, "You ok?" then seeing where he was looking sniffed angrily.  
  
Fleur caught on next and said in a disapproving voice, "Yes Bill told me about the meeting, I tell you 'Arry I am as upset as he was about it. How dare they!"  
  
Harry was a bit surprised at the vehemence of her voice, couldn't decide what to say so just shrugged uncomfortably. He sat back a little, staring out into space, trying to just enjoy the day and forget for a while. It was a struggle though; dark sadness kept trying to engulf him now that he wasn't keeping his mind totally on a task. Harry was only half listening as Ginny and Fleur spoke of the new flat she and Bill were moving into, of the honeymoon (it seemed that Fleur wished it could be more than a week long but both couldn't get more time off) and various other things. He looked across the lawn and saw the three were still being observed by the gaggle of young witches, sitting on the deep grass not far off. He noticed that now most of the women were all laughing and talking loudly at a couple of the tables. Someone had conjured several tea sets as they continued to catch up.  
  
'Is that what family's really like?' the wistful thought felt strange in his own mind.  
  
He continued to look around and saw Dumbledore, Moody, Mrs. Weasley and two of the older witched talking, but glancing towards him fairly often. His smile and mood began to ebb again. He wondered what about him they were discussing now. His eyes stayed fixed on that small group till it was noticed that he was watching as close or closer than them.  
  
"Problems between you and the boy Albus?" Ginny's great aunt Adelaide asked quietly.  
  
"You noticed that Adie," he responded quietly taking his eyes off of Harry.  
  
Ginny's other great aunt Adara responded in a far away sort of voice, "He's struggling mightily to hide it as well as he is. I see great rage and sadness storming through him; he fights a constant internal battle.  
  
"He holds the capacity for great love but the fear of it has some hold on him." Those who knew this elderly, maiden witch knew that her words were true, it had always been that way for Adara. Whenever the emotions were strong enough she could read them. Read them as clearly as if they were written on parchment. Sometimes if she was close enough and the emotion strong enough she would receive snippets of pictures. Visions gleamed out of the person's memories or thoughts. Adara owned the very rare gift of empathy and hers was one of the strongest cases in ages.  
  
Dumbledore nodded sadly, "And all I do is make matters worse. It's been a long time since I was a young man, so many mistakes," he sighed unable to articulate his thoughts further.  
  
"How is it a wizard his age can conjure this amount of magic and still be conscious?" Adelaide asked, "Most full grown adults would be hard pressed to be standing after all this," she motioned around them.  
  
The conversation then encompassed Harry's still fast increasing magical strength. Molly informed her aunt's a bit more of his life and times. She painted a clearer picture of the true extent of the sorrow that he fought against. Inadvertently it seemed she showed the true extent of her affection for Harry, and for the first time aloud expressed her fear for him and Ginny. Moody and Dumbledore spoke a bit of Harry's strengths and abilities. Dumbledore also added quietly his trepidation as to the sources of Harry's wide ranging knowledge. As was usual, talk with the two older sisters flowed freely, it had always been that when whenever the sisters were together. People always opened easily up to them. What Harry also didn't know, but both were long standing Order members. Both also possessed the strength of character than ran wild through most of the Weasley clan, and were both witches of some repute.  
  
Harry continued to watch the older people for a while. He was curious as to who the pair of older witches that had joined the heart of his typical watchers were. The feelings were still there, struggling to send him to a place he didn't want to be. The comfort he found though sitting in the midst of his conjuring, holding Ginny's hand and listening to happy conversation were making it a lot easier to him to continue to hold onto his contented state. For the first time it seemed it struck him that his feelings for Ginny had grown from nowhere. Before this holiday he had known her only as a friend. Admittedly his heart was bound to a lovely Asian witch for some time, but never had he felt quite what he was feeling towards Ginny right now. When he returned back to the Dursley's, she was a faint bright spot, and now with every time he saw her that bright spot grew.  
  
A startling thought just occurred to him, 'Didn't she say she was seeing Dean on the way home from school?' he felt his stomach muscles clench in what he thought had to be jealousy.  
  
'No, no, Ginny wouldn't date both of us at the same time.  
  
'Oh, so we are dating now are we?' he thought to himself  
  
He continued his internal discussion without really feeling the effects of doubt. Not with Ginny holding his hand, and turning to smile at him every so often. His eyes continued to drift to her often.  
  
"Harry is anything wrong? You turned very quiet and you have a strange look on your face," her voice tinged with worry.  
  
Harry came out of his own thoughts and responded, "What? Oh no nothings wrong, why do you ask?"  
  
She looked at him now even more concerned, "Fleur asked you a question three times and you ignored her."  
  
"Oh I'm sorry Fleur, I was just thinking."  
  
Fleur smiled at him, but was giving him a piercing womanly look.  
  
"What were you thinking about?" Ginny asked curiously.  
  
Harry just smiled slightly and shrugged.  
  
She began to frown a bit deeper till Fleur said quite casually, "If I might guess my new little sister, is that our 'Arry here was deep in thought over you.  
  
"You see Ginny with men you have to keep a look out for that slightly lost expression, the dopey little smile and now the slight reddening of the cheeks."  
  
Harry didn't think slight was the right word, 'Bloody hell, was it that easy to read? Or was this some kind of Veela power.' After a second to bolster himself he narrowed his eyes towards Fleur and said in a mock crisp voice, "Do you mind?"  
  
She laughed throatily at him and said, "I do apologize, I should have waited till later to mention it, but you must understand that we women must look out for each other."  
  
Ginny laughed with Fleur and now was trying to match the previous womanly gaze. Harry began to squirm before the two women, "Bloody hell it's easier to face down a horde of Acromantula than two beautiful women," he muttered under his breath.  
  
Fleur laughed again, and Ginny at first looked a bit stunned and then beamed at him. He couldn't help but join in the laughter just after Ginny had. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hermione looking wistfully at them and that twinge of hurt returned. 'I'm going to have to do something about this for today. It's too good a day to let anything spoil it,' he thought to himself.  
  
Harry lost the thought for the time being as his full attention returned to Fleur as she told him how she had cursed Bill this morning. Harry was trying in vain to control his laughter as she explained of the fierce belief of hers and the women of her family in a man not seeing his bride before the wedding. She had used was she called a 'Boogey Bat Hex' that Ginny had taught her to escape being seen. Actual tears started in his eyes as she explained how Charlie and Ron had to catch Bill and keep him from falling down the stairs headfirst. "After all," she said loftily, "I did warn him several times." It was then Falcore let him know that a group of men, smaller than the group of women had just left the Burrow and were making their way to the paddock.  
  
Harry had heard a high-pitched squeal of delight followed by louder, more hurried talking from the women in the paddock. The trio, though, was still sitting and laughing that was until that high pitched squeal turned from delight to terror. Harry was up in a flash and saw at the very extreme far end of the paddock a small boy high in the air on a broom. It was obvious the little boy had no control of the broom and was beginning to head away from everyone. A quick glance over the area showed Professor Dumbledore and several of the witches with wands out. It seemed that between the distance and the protection spells that were erected interfered with all usual attempts at saving the boy.  
  
Harry didn't hesitate raising his left arm as he ran, "Falcore TO ME!"  
  
Falcore immediately arrived in a flash of fire taking his left hand. An instant later he was hovering slightly above the boy on the broom, Falcore keeping up the slow pace.  
  
"Hello there little mate, excellent day for flying isn't it?" Harry asked brightly.  
  
The small boy jerked in surprise and nearly crashed into the top of a tree. "Sorry about that, no reason to be nervous. You think you can hold that broom steady?"  
  
The boy nodded, and a moment later Harry was seated right behind him. "Well since we're flying together maybe you should tell me your name. Mine's Harry."  
  
The cute little boy gaped over his shoulder at him and said nervously, "I. . . I'm Willem."  
  
Harry smiled reassuringly, "So tell me my friend, what are you doing alone up here and flying on Ron's broom?" he asked casually, "I'm pretty sure you're mum wouldn't think you were old enough to fly by yourself."  
  
Willem blushed but his eyes seemed to be fixed on Harry's scar. "I. . . well everyone always talks about flying and Quidditch and everyone says I'm really good on my training broom. . . . I just thought it would be the same thing. I just wanted to see if it was as good as everyone says."  
  
"So you just wanted to see what flying was really like. . .hmm, if I were to show you what flying was really like do you promise not to taking up flying again without your parent's permission?"  
  
Willem's eyes became wide at the thought of being shown what it was like to really fly and by Harry Potter! He quickly promised. Harry smiled at him and told him to hold on tight. Harry hunched forward over him, using his forearms to make sure the boy was held in place. With that done he kicked the broom into a sharp turn, leaned forward and pushed the broom for all it was worth. After an initial sharp intake of breath the boy began to squeal in renewed delight. Falcore raced in front of them, the stunning creature appeared to barely have to flap his wings to keep steadily before them. An odd scarlet nimbus seemed to trail behind the phoenix as Harry urged the broom into a semi-steep dive. At the end of the dive his toes brushing the grass Willem let out a great 'Ya-Hoooo!' at the very top of his voice. Once more they rose, making another sharp turn, as Harry kicked the tail of the broom upwards one final time. The swept down a bit more slowly to much applause as they swept in front of Ginny and Fleur, who had joined Mrs. Weasley and the rest  
  
"That was very nice Harry dear," she said as who had to be Willem's mum came stalking over to scold her son, "But we really could have done without the air show."  
  
He again smiled innocently, "We made a deal Mrs. Weasley, I would show Willem here what it was like to really fly and he wouldn't take up flying again without his mum's say so."  
  
Willem's mother stopped to look at him, eyes widening slightly, gave him an appreciative nod and a smile that was hidden from her son. She did though commence with a rather harsh scolding of the boy. Not surprisingly it sounded very much like Mrs. Weasley and her sons. Mrs. Weasley was giving him a wide and approving smile.  
  
"So your saying that it was the only reason for the flight, you got no enjoyment from it what so ever?" Ginny said sweetly.  
  
Harry laughed, a good hearty laugh, "No, I wouldn't say that!"  
  
"I see you and Falcore are bonding quickly," Dumbledore said from behind him.  
  
Harry turned and said "I suppose so," keeping his expression and voice polite. Dumbledore didn't say anything else, just continued to gaze at him. This action by Dumbledore was beginning to grate on his nerves.  
  
He locked eyes with Dumbledore for several minutes. He heard several of the witches around him saying something to the effect of 'Young wizards are all the same, not a one of them doesn't steal a broom and fly at Willem's age.'  
  
Dumbledore's look changed slightly, Harry realized he must have let some emotion show, his stomach clenched in loss at the fond words of the women around him. Harry dropped his eyes and turned away from him, his mood really ebbing for the first time today. When he lifted his eyes again he met Mrs. Weasley's. The look on her face and in her eyes touched his heart. She reached up one hand and pulled him down into a warm hug and kiss on the cheek. It was a good feeling, that. Almost like family. Just before letting him go she whispered in his ear, "It's not only young wizards that get into trouble that way. Sometimes little redheaded witches do too." He smiled a warm smile at her; in surprise he found he felt wonderful again.  
  
He turned away from her and saw Ginny talking to the two older women that were speaking with Dumbledore earlier. She heard Ginny saying something like is it any wonder that he was named seeker in his first year. Harry grinned embarrassedly at hearing the pride in her voice. Ginny looked over her shoulder at him and gave a warm smile. Harry closed the distance and stood next to her. Ginny took his arm and said, "Harry, I want you to meet my great-aunts. Motioning first to the left said, "This is Adelaide and this is Adara Weasley."  
  
Harry smiled and was about to give a polite bow, but something clicked in his mind. They all saw him freeze, smile fading and his eyes going a bit distant. After a moment the smile returned and said, "The same sisters who wrote 'A Compendium of the Power Struggles of Dark Forces throughout the Ages?'"  
  
Both sisters' eyes widened slightly, giving him pleased smiles, nodded as Harry was bowing a little more deeply than strictly polite. "We wrote that more than sixty years ago Mr. Potter, it's rather a surprise that you found a copy. Not many would even bother reading it any more."  
  
"Please call me Harry," he said politely, "I've been searching out rare books, and that one give a lot of insight into power struggles and strategies of the past. I once heard someone say those who ignore the past are doomed to repeat it. Or something close to that."  
  
"Wise advice, very wise advice indeed," Dumbledore said from behind him.  
  
Harry mostly ignored his headmaster, "I had meant to ask Ginny or Ron if you were relations," he make an indistinct motion with he free hand, "Just never find the time.  
  
He chuckled and said, "I hope you don't mind terribly if I pester you with questions later on this evening."  
  
Ginny spoke up now, giving his arm a sharp tug, "I think you did enough work today and tonight you are my escort," she raised one eyebrow and said archly, "I expect you to be at my beck and call all night!"  
  
Harry held back the snort of laughter at the command and instead stepped slightly aside. He made an elaborate bow and said slightly louder than he had meant to, "Oh, of course milady, please forgive my lapse. You're wish is, of course, my command, for this evening and for many to come, if it pleases milady," he said in a very grandiose manner. As he rose to a smattering of applause and cheers he saw Ginny reddening and he struggled to keep a straight face.  
  
Moody's amused growl came from behind him, "Smooth Potter, very smooth."  
  
Harry was beginning to feel the shock of what he did. Ginny still hadn't said anything, but was looking at him rosy cheeked. Her eyes though were misty, and her soft lips bent in a small smile seemed to beg to be kissed right now. Harry shook himself then chanced a look around. He was surrounded by witches wearing amused smiles. He heard in several different voices the same sentiment, 'What a charming young man.'  
  
'Me?? Charming??? Me???' he thought slightly bemused. The bemusement didn't last long, taking another long look at Ginny. She smiled and he never felt more confident in his life.  
  
Harry stood there bemused, he saw a small group of older Weasley men, talking loudly and laughing uproariously as they made their way into the paddock. Bill flanked by Charlie and Ron trailed the group, after a second Harry started. Whipping his head around he saw Fleur chatting happily with the women he had just been taking to. As his head swung back his wand came out. Seemingly without aiming he called out "Nebulosus Vallo!" A thin, misty white spell sailed out of his wand hitting Bill Square on the chest. He saw Bill's eyes widen, when it hit the spell seemed to spilt in two. One spiraled up; the other down, in less than a second Bill was enshrouded in a thick, pearly white fog. Immediately he heard gasps from the women around him, the twins burst into immediate laughter and some of the men drew wands in confusion.  
  
After a second Bill's voice called out, "What's the big idea Harry!?!"  
  
Harry couldn't help but chuckle before he called back, "I'm not sure Bill, but I think it would be very bad luck for the groom to be hexed by his bride twice on their wedding day!" There were amused chuckles from the women and more raucous laughter from the men.  
  
The twins came closer and he saw they were frowning at him, "Harry," Fred started.  
  
George continued, "It takes all the fun out of it,"  
  
"If you do something like that for a good reason!" finished Fred.  
  
Harry just grinned at them.  
  
Bill next said in a voice that hinted of dread, "Fleur is here? We didn't stop at the house, we thought she was. . ."  
  
He never finished that thought as Fleur's voice rang out imperiously, "Bill Weasley! What did I tell you!" her voice was harsh but her eyes were twinkling wildly.  
  
"My little flower. . ." Bill said in almost fearful voice.  
  
"Don't you little flower me!" As she strode towards Bill she paused at Ginny's side, she leaned in a little and said in a voice that Harry was meant to hear, "A very good choice," she looked towards Harry, eyes squinting a bit, a slight frown touched her lips and continued, "You have to train him a bit, but a very good choice."  
  
Harry didn't have a clue as to what to say to that. He smiled and shook his head. He watched her walked towards Bill, he saw Ron and Hermione standing together. They were a little farther back, both seemed to be watching him. Though Hermione seem to also want to get a better look at the spell he had cast. They looked away from him when they saw his eyes on them. He was considering going over to them until a soft hand snake its way into his. He looked down slightly to see Ginny staring at him. She was smiling at him again. Her sparkling eyes spoke volumes. He had a feeling her expression was roughly the same.  
  
They shared the moment in silence till she spoke in a soft voice tinged with love, "You're having a very good day aren't you."  
  
He fumbled with the words, finally he answered quietly, "This is probably, no not probably, this is the best day I've ever had."  
  
Ginny watched him closely as he spoke. She saw a range of emotions cross his face to disappear in an instant. He was looking at her like that again. Eyes sparkling, locking hers to his. It seemed as if everything around them disappeared. Neither knew how long they had stood that way. Harry felt Falcore's presence, occupying a corner of his mind letting him know all was well. Somehow Harry knew that Falcore approved of all this and if it was possible it made it seem even more right.  
  
They came back to themselves as Fleur called over to Harry, "'Arry, how much can my Bill see right now?"  
  
Harry turned and called over, "He can't see the tip of his own nose!"  
  
She gave him a wicked grin as her head disappeared into the fog, Harry was quite sure Bill was getting thoroughly kissed right now. Grins filled the onlookers before Mrs. Weasley called out sharply, "Bill, Fleur!" her voice was sharp, but her face was blooming in amusement.  
  
"Sorry momma," Fleur said with a giggle a few moments later when her head reemerged from the smoky void.  
  
"Alright ladies! It's about time for us all to start to get ready for the festivities!" Molly called out.  
  
"Gabrielle, Ginny come let us get ready," said Fleur.  
  
"Well, I guess I'll see you a little later," a smiling Ginny said to Harry.  
  
Harry glanced over to Ron and Hermione, who were talking close together while observing them. He said to Ginny, "Can you wait another minute or two?" She had seen him look over and understood. She looked at him for a moment and then nodded.  
  
"Fleur, Ginny will catch you up in a minute," he called after her.  
  
Fleur turned and grinned wickedly at them as she said, "Do hurry Ginny, after all you have all night to steal kisses with 'Arry!"  
  
They both laughed embarrassedly, hand in hand the pair made their way over. Ron and Hermione both looked at them with equal caution. They stood in uncomfortable silence for several moments while Harry gathered his words.  
  
He looked between the two, biting his lower lip, happiness was fighting a terrible battle with the anger and hurt inside him. "I don't want to feel the way I do right now," he began, "I, uh, it's out of my... out of my mind today. For today, nothing's happened. It's a good day, a happy day, let's keep it that way." He looked over to Ginny and after a moment she nodded at him.  
  
Both looked nervously at him and then nodded.  
  
"I really have to go," Ginny said, "I have to help Fleur get ready, and myself too. Coming Hermione?"  
  
Hermione nodded.  
  
"I'll walk you back a little ways," Harry said. Ginny gave him an adoring smile, and took his arm. Hermione and Ron trailed behind them. Near the edge of the paddock a thought occurred to Harry, he said to Ginny, "I know you said no more work today, but there was something I was working on the other day. I wonder, would you mind if I try it now?" He had that playful glint in his eyes again.  
  
She frowned at him, looking at him with stern eyes that sparkled mischievously. "If you must," she said faintly.  
  
He drew his wand, looked Ginny in the eye and said, "Rosaleous." At the end of his wand appeared six perfect roses, tied with a piece of fine lace. He brought them up near Ginny's hair, and then grinned broadly. "Good match from memory, no?"  
  
She looked stunned as she stared at the flowers, and then said very coyly, "Been thinking about me Mr. Potter?"  
  
Harry's cheeks reddened slightly, but didn't drop his eyes from her. "Once or twice Miss Weasley."  
  
Ginny looked at him for a second, reached up and hooked a lock of wavy hair behind his ear before throwing her arms around his neck. Planting a firm, but quick kiss square on the lips. Without another word, she let him go and practically skipped back to the Burrow. Calling over her shoulder, "Coming Hermione?"  
  
Harry momentarily stunned finally turned and saw Hermione looking at him with eyebrows raised, an amused smile on her face. She didn't say anything, but he did hear her giggle as she chased after Ginny. Ron, though, was frowning slightly and said very seriously, "When did you get so good with women?" He sounded disgruntled.  
  
That was not exactly what Harry was expecting from Ron. While trying to decide what to say Harry looked over Ron's shoulder to see all the remaining men looking at them. Most wore small grins, but some, like the rest of the Weasley brothers were scowling at him. Ron seeing where Harry was looking realized what had happened and now was laughing openly at him.  
  
Harry stood uncomfortably until Bill called out in exasperation, "Harry can you take this bloody spell off me now???"  
  
Harry chortled and decided on a little more fun, he called back, "Damn! I knew I should have looked up the counter-spell."  
  
"What!!!" Bill called back, his voice tinged with panic.  
  
Waiting till the twins fell about in hysterics, Harry waved his wand and the spell 


End file.
